Bonds Sealed With Blood
by h2ofalcon
Summary: "It is vengeance I seek. Vengeance against those who cast me away, those would kill me in an instant for who I am, and those who have taken what is rightfully mine. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Why torture only one of you, when I can have the satisfaction of both of you screaming in pain at the same time?" Blood will be spilt, revenge gained, destiny fulfilled.
1. Chapter 1

**Bonds sealed with blood**

If Merlin were told that he and Arthur were to be attacked and captured, and said informant asked him to predict where aforementioned ambush would occur, Merlin would have immediately guessed, "While on patrol," or, "On one of Arthur's stupid hunting trips." He might have even ventured as far as to suggest the likelihood of such an event happening during one of Uther's tiresome banquets, or another useless tournament, or while some mysteriously ominous visitor lurked in the shadows of the citadel.

But he never would have pictured _this_ happening.

"Only you, Arthur," Merlin grimaced, "could manage to get yourself kidnapped _in bed_. What happened to 'I've been trained to kill since birth,' huh?"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur grumbled, fumbling behind himself in the darkness for the ends of the icy iron chains strapping him to the wall. "I was simply… caught unawares." His face reddened, and he was momentarily glad for the obscurity offered by the gloom of the unlit cell.

"Yeah, well at least I was _awake_ when they got me."

"What did you do, scare them with your non-existent combat skills?"

"No," Merlin scowled irritably. "I was walking across the courtyard after leaving your chambers and they hit me from behind."

"Well I suppose it wouldn't take much to knock you out, would it?" It was Arthur's turn to scowl as he realized that the spare file that he stored in his boot had been removed. He paused with a sudden realization. "Why would they want you too?" he murmured out loud.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably in the darkness. "I don't know." But he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that grew with the suspicion that he did indeed know who was behind this, and he could only fervently pray that he was mistaken.

"Morgana!" Arthur growled, and Merlin woke with a start, heart pounding. _No. It couldn't be._

"Dear brother, don't act so surprised. It's not as if I haven't already made my intentions towards you and your _kingdom_ perfectly clear." She spat, gliding across the dungeon floor menacingly only to reach out and run her hand along Arthur's cheek mockingly. "And now look at you. Not so mighty now, are you?"

Arthur clenched his jaw, tilting his chin defiantly. "You can do whatever you wish with me, Morgana. But please, let Merlin go."

Merlin suppressed a slight gasp, but Morgana simply laughed in Arthur's face. "So noble of you…" she sighed dramatically. "Yet I'm afraid that just won't be possible." A faint, bitter smile traced itself across her anger-ravaged face. "You see, Merlin is a vital part of my plan, and I can't just _let him go_."

Merlin was surprised at how desperate Arthur seemed, a deep frown etched across his face in the flickering torchlight. "Please, Morgana. If you remember or care at all about the friendship we once shared, _please_ let him go. I give you my word as King of Camelot that I will submit myself fully to whatever torture you have planned, but _please." _

Morgana's eyes darkened, glittering maniacally, and Arthur realized he had made a mistake in bringing up anything having to do with Camelot. He mourned the fact that his once compassionate, fair, childhood friend had come so far, had become all but unrecognizable for the woman she had once been. _Magic. Magic corrupted her_, he reminded himself, but it hurt, to see such anger and hatred in those once kind eyes, to sense how unstable that just, virtuous mind of hers had become.

"You could promise me anything, Arthur Pendragon, and I wouldn't give up this opportunity. You see, it is vengeance I seek. Vengeance against those who cast me away, those would kill me in an instant for who I am, and those who have taken what is rightfully mine. You, Arthur Pendragon, will pay dearly for what you have cost me. And Merlin will suffer with you."

Before he could say another word, Morgana had swept furiously from the dungeon with the clang of iron on stone, and left them at the mercy of the dank, cold cell.

Merlin tentatively reached out for his magic only to find, to his disgust and confusion that the deep, golden spring of magic that usually filled him had slowed to a trickle and was covered with an oily, stagnant layer that made it slip from his grasp whenever he tried to access it. He shivered, scanning the dungeon around him. Something horrible had once happened here, and whether Morgana knew it or not, the residue of the evil that had once taken root in this prison still lingered in the shadows, and remained strong enough to prevent escape with a simple spell.

Arthur sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Merlin. That you have to be here."

Merlin shook himself from his reverie. "What?!"

"You heard me."

"Was that an apology I heard? From Arthur Pendragon? Are you feeling alright, sire?"

Arthur's lips twitched upwards. "I'm serious, you clotpole." He sighed again. "What I mean is… that I wish you didn't have to go through this, but if I had to choose someone to face death with, it would be you. You're probably the bravest man I've ever met, and the only real friend."

Merlin's eyes shone. "Don't let that go to your head," Arthur laughed.

Merlin grinned in response. "I hardly think you of all people should be worrying about other people's over-inflated egos."

Arthur snorted. "Idiot."

"Prat."

"Dollophead."

"Hey, for the last time, that's my word!" Merlin protested. But Arthur, satisfied that he had gotten the last word, had already shut his eyes and proceeded to ignore Merlin's objections. Merlin, seeing as they weren't going anywhere anytime soon, proceeded to follow his example, and soon they both were asleep.

A/N: Hello everyone, and happy belated Thanksgiving! I know I should really have posted another chapter for "Destinies Intertwined," but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone... so here it is! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur knew he should have expected it, but that didn't stop his pulse from racing and his fists from clenching when Morgana reentered the cell the next morning. Her deranged demeanor from the previous day had vanished, replaced with a falsely cheery expression and words dripping with sarcasm.

"I hope you boys slept well," she drawled, "because we're in for lots of fun today."

Merlin paled, and Arthur hoped he had refrained from doing the same. He was well-prepared for any physical torture she had to offer him, but he knew that Merlin certainly wasn't. And Arthur knew that where magic was concerned, torture extended far beyond the realm of the physical.

"Who wants to go first?" Morgana exclaimed with an unnerving smirk. She turned to look at both of them, and Arthur declined to answer, knowing that she likely already had a plan for them and would carry it out regardless of what he or Merlin said. Merlin, the idiot, had other ideas.

"I will." He stated flatly, eyes hard.

Morgana let out a low chuckle, and Arthur saw Merlin's throat constrict. "I have an idea," she suggested evilly. "Why not kill two birds with one stone? Why torture only one of you, when I can have the satisfaction of both of you screaming in pain at the same time?"

"Morgana-"

With a snap of her fingers, Arthur's head was pressed against the wall, a knife at his throat. "Shut up." Morgana growled. She straightened, and with a wave of her hand, the dagger fell to the floor at her feet. "As I was saying before my brother so rudely interrupted, I have found a way to torture you simultaneously."

"And how exactly are you planning to do that?" Merlin demanded with a steely glare. Arthur stifled a groan. He was going to have a very long talk with that clotpole after this was over about when to stay quiet.

With a murmur of unintelligible words, a crystal materialized in Morgana's outstretched palm, and Arthur saw Merlin's eyes widen slightly in apprehension.

"A crystal from the Caves of Nehitid." She gloated. "You see, the Catha have devised a long list of very… interesting methods for finding the information they need from captives that are… less than willing. I have taken the opportunity to learn many of these… techniques. And I believe I have found one that will suit you two perfectly, seeing as you are so keen to protect eachother from harm."

Arthur's gaze flickered to Merlin's across the room, and he was taken aback by the sense of foreboding and utter horror he saw reflected in his friend's expression. He cleared his throat. "So what are you planning on doing to us?" Arthur demanded.

Morgana's lips contorted into a sinister grin. "I suppose you'll just have to wait and see, won't you, dear brother mine?"

With a wave of her hand, the dungeon was plunged into darkness, until a murmur of foul, twisted-sounding language reached their ears, and they were met with a soft, pulsating golden light emanating from Morgana's crystal, which she had placed gingerly in the middle of the floor. "I'll just leave you to it, boys." She smirked. "But don't worry. I'll be close enough to listen to your screams."

With that, she was gone, and Arthur tried desperately to catch his friend's gaze, but Merlin was staring at the ground with an unearthly intensity. "_Merlin!"_ Arthur whispered urgently.

Merlin looked up at him with the ghost of a smile. "Just… know that I'm happy to serve and protect you until the day I die. And… let's try not to scream… see how mad Morgana gets."

Arthur opened his mouth, a protest that _he_ was hardly the one they had to worry about screaming on the tip of his tongue, when the golden light flared brighter, and he had time for one last terse nod before the glow consumed them, and suddenly his chest erupted with excruciating pain. He screwed his eyes shut with a grimace of agony, gritting his teeth to bite back a cry of pain, but darkness was encroaching on the blinding glare engraved on the back of his eyelids, and he finally slipped into the soft darkness of unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

When Merlin opened his eyes, their cell had returned to its former, dim state, and he cast about in confusion. Where was he? Suddenly it all came flooding back, and he sat up with a start, chains clinking noisily. Morgana. The binding curse. At least that was what he'd assumed she had in mind. But all he felt now was a strange ache in his chest. Other than that, he felt surprisingly _good_. Better than he had in weeks, actually. As he puzzled over this, Arthur stirred on the other side of the cell, then sprung to his feet, right hand reaching instinctively for the sword at his hip, only to grasp at empty air. "Merlin!" he groaned.

"Right here, Arthur." Merlin said in a low voice.

Arthur's shoulders sagged in relief. "How're you feeling?"

Merlin shrugged in response. "Better than I have in a long time, actually. You?"

"Yeah…" Arthur frowned. "I feel great."

Just then, the cell door creaked open, revealing a perplexed and slightly enraged Morgana. "Well, I see you two survived the binding curse."

Arthur could have sworn he heard Merlin stifle a gasp. "I have to admit, I was expecting more from you, Morgana." Arthur intoned, careful to keep his voice level.

"Oh, Arthur. Why that was only the beginning," Morgana replied saucily, but there was an edge to her voice that Arthur suspected was a side effect of poorly concealed unease. So she wasn't entirely sure of what she was doing…

"In fact," she continued. "Why don't we get started now? I have a perfect little game to get us acclimated, and then we can move on to even more… entertaining activities." She reached behind her and, seemingly out of thin air, produced a rawhide whip. Arthur suppressed a shudder. The flail was obviously a perfectly constructed utensil of torture, with small, needle-like appendages running down its length and a brutal-looking iron crosspiece. But what unsettled him most was the ghostly green fire flickering along the edges of the leather.

Morgana grinned. "Since Merlin was so eager to volunteer yesterday, why doesn't he go first? I suppose it doesn't matter really…" she left her sentence hanging menacingly in the dank air. This time Arthur couldn't stop the shiver of revulsion running down his spine at the thought of Merlin being subjected to that… thing. Morgana unlocked Merlin's chains from the wall and led him to a rough stone table that had suddenly materialized in the center of the room.

"No, Morgana…" Arthur pleaded uselessly. But the witch had her mind made up, attaching Merlin's bindings to a set of rusty hooks embedded in the sides of the marble dais and forcing Merlin down onto it stomach-first. She ripped off his tunic with a single slash of her dagger, and Merlin shivered involuntarily against the frigid marble, goosebumps spreading down his arms and back.

"Now. Let's get started, shall we?" Merlin had seconds to send Arthur one last reassuring glance before the whip was whistling through the air and his back exploded with fiery agony. Merlin choked back a scream, and grimly acknowledged Arthur's startled cry. So the binding curse had worked after all.

Arthur could only watch in helpless fury as Merlin was shoved roughly onto the dais and the flail descended in a merciless arc onto his friend's unprotected back. His shout of rage echoed in his own ears, but soon turned into a cry of distress as the area between his own shoulder blades was lacerated a blazing stripe of pain. He gasped as the whip rose for another blow, and desperately searched out Merlin's steady gaze, confusion and agony meeting torment and… apology?

The whip flew home with a resounding crack, and Arthur held back an involuntary sob. He didn't understand…His own back was throbbing, yet it was Merlin who was being tormented. And while he felt the pain of being whipped, he was missing the tell-tale stream of congealed blood dripping between his shoulder blades and down his spine, blood that he could see in stark contrast with Merlin's pale skin and the ebony-white stone beneath him.

The flail rose and fell in a merciless rhythm until Arthur could only make out the hazy silhouette of Morgana and the dais through a film of tears. His vision was fading even as he arced his back desperately in a fruitless effort to somehow avoid the phantom pain, fingers scrabbling hopelessly for purchase against the slimy stone wall. Ten lashes. Twelve. Fifteen. Eighteen. The burning agony became unbearable, and Arthur finally let out a tormented scream, echoing through the dank cell and melding with Merlin's own strangled yell and Morgana's hysterical laugh. Twenty-one. Twenty-four. Was it Arthur's imagination, or was the floor beneath him swaying violently? And why was it so blasted dark?

Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Arthur's knees sagged and he let himself sink into the blessed silence of unconsciousness. Morgana smirked in satisfaction at the two prone forms before her, absently flicking the blood from the end of her flail and letting it splatter on the cobblestones. "Sweet dreams," she murmured gleefully before stalking from the dungeon. Her work here was done… for now.


	4. Chapter 4

Carrion crows called out mockingly to a darkening sky, yet the battlefield itself was silent. Deathly quiet, in fact. Arthur gazed about in abject horror at the carnage, piles of thousands of corpses littering the open expanse, scattered like toys knocked over on the whim of an angry child. Blood stained the earth crimson, tainting the air with its metallic stench, and banners flapped mournfully in response to a ghostly breeze. Chainmail glinted in the fading light, and despite Arthur's best efforts, he could not put a name to any of the faces of the dead. This was wrong, unnatural. Where were the cries of the wounded and the calls of medics coming to their aid? And where were the other survivors? Arthur didn't remember there being a battle…

His stomach clenched, and Arthur found himself stumbling between the bodies of the fallen, heading in a seemingly random direction. Yet instinct urged him onward, told him that someone, or something needed him to follow the invisible tugging sensation that led him on towards the setting sun in the distance.

As the sun fell below the horizon, the shadows lengthened, and the landscape took on a surreal quality. Everything was dead, some variation of grey, with inky puddles of blood spattered across the grass, and even the air became stagnant and lifeless.

The pull grew stronger until Arthur climbed to the crest of a small hill, gasping at the scene before him. A single body lay sprawled out in the middle of a clear expanse that was almost a perfect circle. Arthur crept forward cautiously, only to stop short at the man's side.

"No!"

A pale and familiar face shone in the starlight, marred by a scarlet gash across the forehead. Arthur fell to his knees, desperately searching for signs of life with trembling hands. They came away crimson, but Arthur let out a small sigh of relief at the slight rise and fall of the man's chest. "Merlin, you bloody idiot! Wake up!"

The eerie silence continued on uninterrupted, and Arthur desperately pressed his jacket against a stab wound in his friend's side, almost sobbing as he realized it was hopeless. He'd lost so much blood already… Stormy blue eyes flickered open. "Arthur?"

"Merlin!" Arthur choked out. "You're going to be okay. Everything's going to be alright now." Yet he knew the words were untrue as soon as they left his mouth. Merlin shook his head weakly and struggled to sit up.

"Not this time, old friend. I just want you to know that…" He broke off, coughing, and Arthur lowered him back to the ground.

"It's alright Merlin, just relax. Don't try to talk."

Merlin shook his head again, more violently this time. "You will be a great King, Arthur. The best Albion has ever had. And I wish I could be there to see it."

"Don't you dare try to say goodbye!" Arthur growled. "You're not going anywhere."

A faint smile traced itself across his friend's face. "And though you're the biggest prat I've ever had the misfortune to meet, you're also the greatest friend I've ever had. And I'm happy to be your servant until the day I die."

Tears streamed down Arthur's face but he made no move to brush them away. "No… No, Merlin you can't leave me."

Merlin's eyes closed wearily. "Just… don't be a prat," He murmured. And his breathing hitched, slowing to nothing. Arthur grabbed his wrist, frantically searching for a pulse, but there was only the roar of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. His chest ached hollowly. Never had he ever felt so alone, so empty.

"Merlin!" He screamed. His friend's body disappeared, replaced by darkness, and Arthur heard faintly a voice calling to him from far away. He clawed his way toward it, out of the blackness, and opened his eyes to a familiar dungeon.

"Merlin!" And suddenly he was there, grabbing his arm.

"It's okay! I'm here, Arthur!"

"You're dead!" Arthur sobbed. "It's not real… You're gone and I couldn't save you."

Merlin pulled Arthur closer to him and placed his friend's hand gently over his heart. "I'm alive, Arthur. It was just a dream. It's okay…"

Arthur sat, allowing the comforting sensation of Merlin's heartbeat to wash over him like a warm breeze, and staring into sparkling eyes that had just been glazed over with pain. "But… I saw…"

Merlin frowned. "It was Morgana. One side-effect of the enchantment she placed on that whip. I had them too…" his expression darkened. Arthur angrily scrubbed his tears away with his sleeve and squeezed Merlin's shoulder, still trying to convince himself of his friend's wellbeing. Then he remembered. He turned Merlin around and gingerly lifted up his tunic only to stop in surprise.

Instead of the angry welts Arthur had been expecting, all that remained were faint, white lines crisscrossing Merlin's back, scars, as if the whipping had happened years ago. Merlin sighed and turned around. "My guess is that Morgana healed them," he explained. "After all, the faster I heal, the sooner she gets to have more fun, right?"

Arthur scowled, his hands balling into fists. "About what happened…" he began reluctantly.

Merlin looked slightly uncomfortable. "Err… yeah… about that… I think Morgana might have used a binding curse."

"What is that?"

"Umm… when cast on two people, it can result in varied side effects such as an empathy link where the two individuals share pain, or a heightened awareness towards the other person involved in the curse, or… death…"

"What!?" Arthur spluttered. "An empathy link? And are you saying that we're going to die?"

"No!" Merlin exclaimed hurriedly. "If we were going to die as a result of the curse failing, we would have died a long time ago. Probably as soon as Morgana preformed the curse."

"Are you sure?" Arthur demanded.

"Yes! I read about them in one of Gaius's books."

A/N: Yay, a longer chapter! Enjoy, lots of angst ahead... :)

Arthur sagged against the dungeon wall, bringing his knees up to his chest and enjoying the freedom of being unshackled. "Why would Morgana leave us unchained when she's not here?"

Merlin's mouth was set in a grim line. "Either she knows that we'd never be able to escape anyway, or she didn't think we'd be awake before she returned…"

"Ever the pessimist, aren't you Merlin?" Arthur teased half-heartedly, but he knew his friend was right. Morgana had a plan, and he had a sneaking suspicion that neither of them were going to like it.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his manacles, trying fruitlessly to restore bloodflow to his hands without disturbing Arthur with the clanking of chains, although he doubted his friend would wake up anyway. Arthur was a heavy sleeper at the best of times, and while drugged… His stomach rumbled loudly. Morgana, being ever the gracious hostess, had declined to feed them since their arrival, whenever that had been. Time was meaningless in the dungeon, mired in a state of perpetual twilight.

Arthur stirred uneasily in his sleep, and Merlin watched as he rolled over and his breathing settled, calm and even. Blurred memories pushed against his consciousness, but Merlin brushed them away impatiently. He had no desire to relive the dreams he had just experienced at the mercy of Morgana's drugged flail. If he had to guess, Arthur was probably having them too, but Merlin's magic, however subdued, had allowed him to escape their clutches. At least Morgana had found it convenient to heal his wounds. He snorted aloud.

"How considerate of her."

Closing his eyes, Merlin concentrated, pushing through the barrier on his magic and allowing the tainted gold to flood his vision momentarily. What he saw shocked him, although it confirmed that Merlin's guesses at what had happened since their capture had been correct. In a scene reminiscent of those Merlin had skimmed over briefly in Gaius's spellbook, a glowing, pulsating golden strand of _something_ radiated from his own chest and wove through the air, linking him with Arthur across the cell. Merlin took a hesitant step forward, reaching his hand out longingly to the brilliant light. It was just so achingly pure, so _right_, but at that moment, his own impaired magic failed him, and he found himself reaching out into dank, empty air.

Sighing, Merlin lowered himself back to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. _The binding curse_… A wave of conflicting emotions washed over him at the thought. Little was known about such spells except that they were largely unsuccessful and invariably painful to those involved. Few even survived the ordeal, so the method had been left virtually untouched for centuries. Although the curse hadn't seemed to have affected him or Arthur negatively at all, until Morgana came along…

Merlin suddenly recalled a message someone had scrawled in the margins of a dusty tome he had been flipping idly through one night at Gaius's insistence, searching for a remedy for boils. Oddly enough, nothing in the book had any information even remotely pertaining to curses or magical maladies, but as he turned past a particularly distasteful illustration of frog guts, Merlin had spotted the spiderweb-like script inscribed faintly along the edge of the next page. It had read, _"Note to self; binding spells_ _can__ be successful under extremely rare circumstances. Otherwise victims not only feel each other's pain, but also exist in a state of agony as the bond chafes at the fabric of their very being. One usually dies fairly quickly, then the other… Unadvised…"_

Morbidly fascinated, Merlin had then scanned the next page for more, and found only a very vivid description of a spell for turning someone inside-out. He shuddered and shut the book with a hefty thump, discarding it on Gaius's workbench before retiring for the night, hoping that he never had the misfortune to encounter whomever the previous owner of that book had been.

So the binding curse placed on him and Arthur had been successful then. Morgana must have known that regardless of whether the spell worked or not, they would have been subjected to an excruciating amount of pain. A cold hand of fear clutched at his heart as Merlin realized that this meant Morgana no longer cared if they lived or died. They had to get out of here. Merlin desperately reached for his magic again, only to meet the same, cold wall blocking his way.

Just then, his stomach gave a strange lurch and Arthur writhed in his sleep. "Merlin!" he screamed, the raw agony in his voice shaking Merlin to his core. He rushed to his friend's side, unaware of the mirror image he was creating to the scene in Arthur's dream at that very moment.

"Arthur!" He shook the prince's shoulder roughly. "Arthur, wake up!"

Arthur's eyes snapped open, glazed over and panicked. "Merlin!"

Merlin gripped his arm reassuringly. "It's okay! I'm here, Arthur!"

"You're dead!" Arthur choked. "It's not real… You're gone and I couldn't save you."

Merlin's heart clenched, and a vision of his best friend's face clouded with confusion and betrayal swam before his eyes. He swallowed and pushed his own dream-image away, gently pressing Arthur's hand to his chest to demonstrate that his heart was indeed still beating and watching as relief flooded Arthur's features.

Merlin straightened in resolve. If the legends were true, and he really was Emrys and Arthur the Once and Future King, then they could do this. They would get through this together, and any blood Morgana spilled would only serve to make their bond stronger. Thiers was a friendship of legend, and Morgana would come to rue the day she imprisoned them in her dungeon.

A/N: Hey everyone, sorry for the filler chapter, but I felt like I needed to add some background and wanted Merlin's POV... I have no idea why I like writing Arthur's so much... Anyway I also wanted to post something before finals COMPLETELY take over my life, so here it is. See you in a couple of weeks when it's all over! XP


	6. Chapter 6

She came for him a few hours later. Merlin writhed against his set of chains with a strength born out of desperation. He would gladly take any blow for Arthur, but he physically couldn't just stand idly by and watch as his friend was tortured, even if they experienced the same pain regardless of who stood at Morgana's mercy at that particular moment. Every instinct screamed at him that this was _wrong_, that it was his job to protect Arthur, his duty as a friend, his destiny, yet here he was; the most powerful warlock to have ever lived reduced to nothing by a strange dungeon and simple iron chains. Never before had he felt so powerless…

Arthur, sensing his anxiety, turned and shook his head gently. _I'll be fine,_ he mouthed, but both of them knew that was a lie. Merlin could easily see past the stoic expression on his friend's face to the dark sense of apprehension that lingered deep in his azure eyes. Morgana pushed the heavy cell door open with a wordless incantation, and an icy cold fist of panic clutched in Merlin's chest as he realized that she was taking him away. How was he supposed to do anything if he couldn't even see Arthur? The thought of phantom pains shooting through him as his friend underwent some unknown torment sent shudders down Merlin's spine, and he took a step forward impulsively, tugging against his bonds and wincing inwardly as the cuffs bit into his wrists, a trickle of hot blood rolling down his wrists and pooling in his the creases of his tightly clenched fists.

Morgana paused at the doorway and turned to glance back at him, the ghost of an impish grin playing at the corners of her mouth. "Time for some more fun, boys." She proclaimed gleefully. "You see, I've been busy doing some more research on binding curses, and I've discovered that the bond I've created between you two is something rare… something rare indeed. And I intend to use it fully to my advantage."

This time, Arthur didn't even attempt to conceal the panic in his expression as the door crashed shut with a clang, leaving Merlin alone.

Arthur stumbled after Morgana blindly without any of his customary grace, a rushing, white blankness filling his mind. She pulled him on for what seemed like hours, twisting and turning along endless, labyrinthine passageways, until they suddenly emerged into a vaulted cavern, and Arthur's vision was flooded with the pale, distant light of morning. Arthur stood in confusion at the entrance, hastily blinking away the spots that danced across his vision after his long confinement illuminated only by torchlight.

Morgana impatiently tugged at his chain, and he began to follow her once again. But his feet seemed to drag, resisting his best efforts to force them forward, the soles of his boots snagging against every irregularity in the rough stone floor. His head pounded, and his breathing became ragged. Still she pulled him onward, and he did his best to keep up until it became impossible. He sank to his knees in the center of the cavern, unable to continue any further, as sudden tremors racked him. It felt as if someone had taken a dull knife and shredded his very soul to ribbons; nothing he did could alieve the unbearable agony, surrounding him, crushing him in its inescapable grasp.

He heard Morgana's cackle of delight through a red haze of pain, and she strode over and cupped his chin in her hand, forcing his gaze upward. "You and Merlin are bound very tightly, indeed," she mused, but Arthur only registered a single word through the fog that clouded his thoughts. Adrenaline surged through his veins, and he lunged to his feet, shoving Morgana against the nearest wall with all the strength he could muster.

"What have you done to Merlin?" He managed through gritted teeth.

Her eyes flashed, and Arthur found himself flying through the air to crumple against the opposite wall. Something cracked loudly, and his ears rang with the impact as he clutched his hand to his ribcage, letting out a silent howl of agony.

"I am going to enjoy killing you, Arthur Pendragon," Morgana crooned softly, waving a hand. Arthur went limp. "But not today."


	7. Chapter 7

That afternoon found all three of them back in the same, dimly lit cell, as Merlin and Arthur slowly returned to consciousness. Morgana stood in the shadows against the back wall, idly rolling the crystal of Nehitid between her palms and staring at the ground through half-lidded eyes. As her prisoners began to stir, she allowed a small grin of satisfaction to cross her features before arranging herself carefully into a position of perfect nonchalance by the cell door.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she crooned.

Merlin groaned. "Is it really?" he sat up, and Morgana noted in interest how his gaze immediately scanned the cell, landing on Arthur before returning to meet hers. His posture relaxed slightly. "What do you want with us now, Morgana?" he inquired coolly. "Haven't you had enough fun for one day?"

"Oh how slowly you learn, Merlin. Haven't you realized yet? While you are here with me, the fun never ends."

Arthur pulled himself up slowly to a sitting position, blinking in relief as he saw Merlin across the cell, until he realized that they had another unwelcome visitor. His eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Morgana?" he demanded brusquely.

Morgana smirked. "Merlin here just asked me the very same question… I was hoping to impart a little history lesson to you two before we continue our… fun and games."

"What if we've had enough of your so called _fun and games_?"

"That's too bad then, because in these games, I make the rules. And rule number one is that the only way to win is to escape, or to die. It's all very simple. But here's the catch. The first option is never going to happen, and _I _get to decide when you die. So believe me when I tell you that neither of you will ever see the light of day again," Morgana hissed.

"Who's to say that we won't escape?" Merlin challenged.

"Because for the two of you, escape is physically impossible." Morgana grinned wickedly. "Which brings me to today's little history lesson."

She muttered a spell, and the dungeon came alight with an ugly orange glow. "I assume that between Arthur's little… escapade this morning and Merlin's apparent prior knowledge of such techniques that you know the effects of a binding curse."

Arthur looked slightly caught off guard, but Merlin nodded tersely, so she continued. "Good. Then let's go back to the beginning. You see, our story begins with the Order of the Catha in an age much different from this one; an age where magic flourished, and the land was wild and free, untainted by the greed and hatred of the Pendragon reign."

Arthur's eyes hardened. "You cannot blame me for my father's sins. What have I ever done to hurt you?"

"You are just like your father, Arthur Pendragon. Perhaps more than you'd like to think," Morgana spat bitterly. Arthur rose gingerly to his feet and moved as close to her as his chains would allow, staring into her eyes intently.

"So are you," he whispered.

With a snap of her fingers, Arthur was back on the ground with an arm clasped over his already- damaged ribs, yet he continued to stare at her defiantly. She strode over to him angrily, kicking his bruised side mercilessly until he was curled over, panting with the effort of holding in the cries of pain threatening to escape his throat, which was already raw from earlier screaming.

Before Arthur had the chance to slip back into the darkness of unconsciousness, Morgana had dragged him back upright by his hair and tilted his head back to stare back at him. His lip bled in a steady stream of crimson, but he continued to stare daggers at her.

"I am nothing like Uther," she growled quietly, and tossed him back against the wall in frustration. She would see him broken eventually, even if it meant killing Merlin first, just to see what the pain would do to him; ever so strong, so noble, so brave. What would happen to that man if he had to experience his best friend's death, feel him slip away, and watch helplessly as the life left him forever?

She took a deep, steadying breath and continued slowly. "The Catha were, and still are, incredibly wise. Before the Purge, they were renowned far and wide for their knowledge of the healing arts as well as their teaching abilities and plethora of knowledge about matters both magical and non-magical. But that all ended when Uther chose to bring darkness down upon the five kingdoms."

She paused, but this time Arthur did not voice his objections, his mouth set in a firm line.

"In these dark times, they were forced to explore the… darker arts… simply to stay alive, to stay ahead of Uther's forces that wished to hunt them down and feed them to the fire, along with the thousands of other innocents murdered at the time. They invented and rediscovered methods of torture and extraction of information that were deadly in their precision, and used them to their advantage. Most of them survived the Purge, but to this day, the Catha are a close-mouthed group, especially when it comes to their knowledge." She grinned maniacally. "Luckily enough, I happen to be a high priestess of the Old Religion. They practically tripped over themselves offering me their deepest and darkest secrets."

"So they taught you how to do the binding curse then," Merlin guessed. "Great. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Patience, dear Merlin. I'm getting there." She sighed dramatically. "You see, not only did the Catha teach me how to perform the binding curse… they also kindly allowed me to borrow an old facility designed specifically for that purpose." She gestured grandly with her right arm, and the walls themselves came alight with lines of golden symbols, twisting and pulsating in time with the crystal in her other hand. "Behold, the cave of souls."

The look of sudden understanding burning with the gold reflected in Merlin's eyes made her stomach churn uneasily, but one look at Arthur's obvious discomfort gave her confidence to continue. "The ritual of Soul-bonding is an ancient one, used long before the birth of Camelot or the Five Kingdoms. During the Great Purge, the Catha adopted it in the hopes of earning access to the minds of another through such a bond, and thereby gaining information on the enemy's movements. However, such attempts were unsuccessful, and the victims usually died instantly, if not within several days. So the spell was repurposed as a new, exotic method of dual torture or execution, depending on the case.''

"Well, _we're_ obviously not dead…" Merlin noted cheekily.

The color rose in Morgana's cheeks, and she allowed the symbols along the walls to fade. "Not yet anyway," she threatened. "But no, you and Arthur survived the period of time in which the victims usually die, and so I was forced to do further research. It seems that the bond between the two of you was actually successful, not to mention strong, if I assume correctly from the results of this morning's… experiment."

The mixture of anger, confusion, and agitation on Arthur's face was almost comical. "And what exactly was the purpose of this so-called experiment of yours?"

Morgana's answering grin was sickly-sweet. "As I said, it was to test the strength of your bond. Another advantage of this cave is that one member of a pair physically cannot leave without the other. It's supposed to be exquisitely painful… I do hope you enjoyed it."

Merlin's face clouded with rage, but with a subtle shake of Arthur's head, he sagged back against the wall. "So that's the reason for all this?" he spat. "You go this far out of spite alone!?"

"Of course," Morgana shrugged. "Revenge really is quite sweet. Which is why I will especially enjoy the next torment I have planned for you."

She reached into a fold of her dress and pulled out a small, earth-brown vial labeled in spidery handwriting. "Hemlock," she sneered. "I know Merlin's familiar with it."

Merlin's face contorted in anguish. "I'm truly sorry, Morgana, I had no choice."

"There's always a choice," she retorted bitterly. "Isn't that what Gwen used to say?"

Arthur glanced at Merlin in bewilderment. "What?"

Morgana didn't answer, instead striding over to Merlin and pouring the contents of the vial down his throat. Merlin didn't resist, and Arthur could have sworn he saw regret and guilt flash across his friend's face before his own breathing constricted, and he began to feel like his chest was being crushed by a giant vise. His vision darkened around the edges.

Morgana straightened, dropping Merlin's prone figure to the floor. "After all," she murmured, "You chose to poison me."

A/N: Hey, everyone, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. (Finally, a longer one!) But sorry for the cliffhanger... they're just so FUN and easy to end a chapter with... I'm FREE now that finals are over, and hopefully I can update this and _Destinies Intertwined_ a lot more often over break. ;) Yay!

Happy holidays to all!


	8. Chapter 8

When Merlin opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Arthur staring at him accusingly. "Why?" he managed croakily, before breaking off in a violent coughing fit. Merlin sighed raspily as it all came back to him and a torrent of old guilt washed over him.

Arthur finally ceased coughing and closed his eyes against the rush of dizziness, leaning against the wall for support. Merlin opened his mouth to speak, only to find that his voice didn't seem to want to cooperate. He cleared his throat violently and managed a whisper.

"I had to poison her or Camelot would have fallen."

Arthur's eyes opened wearily at this, but the guarded expression that remained on his friend's face hit Merlin like a physical blow. This was only the first secret of many. He took a shaky breath before continuing. "Do you remember Morgause?"

Arthur's eyes hardened. "Yes," be bit off.

"She put a sleeping spell on all of Camelot in order to ensure that the kingdom would fall easily to the knights of Medhir. Morgana was the anchor to her curse, and the only way to end it was to destroy the source of the spell." He swallowed. "You were going to die out there facing the knights alone, and I knew that neither of us would last much longer against the enchantment… It was your life and the survival of the entire kingdom weighed against Morgana's… So there never really was a choice at all."

Arthur closed his eyes again and Merlin's heart sank. But inside Arthur's head was whirling. He had always known that Merlin had secrets, but now he was seeing a new, darker side to his devoted manservant. What else was his friend hiding from him? Were they even friends at all? Yet Arthur knew deep down that, even in his darkest moments, Merlin's unwavering loyalty would never fail him. And that knowledge astounded him. What had he done to deserve such faith?

What would he have done in Merlin's position? Arthur shivered at the possibility of having such a weighty decision thrusted onto his shoulders. Could he have sacrificed the life of a friend for the sake of the kingdom? No. And that's what scared him most. How could he ever be the king Camelot needed if he was weakened by his trust and friendship with others?

Merlin's next words were faint, a mere breath away from remaining unspoken. "I did it for you, Arthur. Always for you." And Arthur didn't know what to think anymore.

Morgana frowned angrily. Damned Merlin. Whether he knew it or not, he was constantly thwarting her every plan, countering her every move. She should have killed him long ago.

Turning back to her scrying bowl, she stared at it intently, blind frustration mounting at the sight of Merlin and Arthur side-by-side in her dungeon. The binding curse had proven to be more of a blessing to the Prince and his servant, and nothing she did seemed to be able to break them. Her time for revenge was growing short. Soon, her army would be fully amassed, and she would be forced to kill them both before attacking Camelot. Still, she couldn't afford any more of their interference in her plans. Never again would they keep her from claiming what was rightfully hers.

She watched, enraged, as Merlin and Arthur engaged in their usual banter as if nothing had happened, seemingly oblivious to their dismal surroundings. Even the seeds of betrayal she had planted in her brother's mind had failed to flower in the light of his friendship with that dratted boy, and now she would have to find another suitable method of torment.

Eventually she could stand it no more, and viciously lashed out at the bowl in front of her, sending it spinning across the floor to shatter with a crash against the far wall, the image of Arthur and Merlin laughing together still swimming in front of her eyes. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her, and a cruel smile twisted its way across her lips. If Arthur and Merlin wanted to talk, they would do it on her terms.

**A/N: Ah, here we go. This is about to get even more intense... if that's possible. :) Confrontation time...**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: As promised, here's the next chapter. :) Enjoy!**

Merlin fell silent mid-sentence as the door to their cell crashed open, the familiar feeling of dread settling in his gut.

"Alright, boys," Morgana growled. "The time for fun and games is over."

Before either of them could register what she meant or had time to react, Morgana was on the other side of the dungeon, a blade glittering at Arthur's throat.

"I need information, and I need it now."

Arthur scowled. "I believe we've already gone over this, Morgana. You can play games all you like, but Merlin and I will not play by your rules."

Morgana threw back her head and laughed, a cold, mocking chuckle that made the hair stand up on the back of Arthur's neck. "One of these days, Arthur, your attitude is going to get you in trouble… Oh wait, I forgot. It already has."

This time Merlin spoke up. "You'll never get the information you desire, Morgana. We would both die before betraying Camelot."

"And die you shall," Morgana hissed. "But I wonder… how many innocent lives you could save if you cooperated."

A heavy silence settled over the dungeon. Morgana smirked. "I currently have a force of fifteen thousand men concealed outside Camelot's eastern borders, with more arriving every day. They will attack the city within a week's time regardless of if you talk or not. But if you do, I promise I will be merciful towards the citizens of Camelot… Maybe I'll even let Guinevere live, depending on how helpful you are."

Arthur's face paled with anger. "I will never betray the people of Camelot!" he snarled.

"So be it." Morgana purred. "But this is my last offer. Regardless of if you and Merlin decide to cooperate, I _will_ get the information I need. And Camelot _will_ fall."

Arthur looked across the cell to see his own expression of horror reflected in his friend's eyes. They could not afford to break now, wouldn't forsake the people of Camelot. Morgana would learn nothing from them. "Over my dead body," Arthur spat.

Morgana grinned wickedly. "As you wish."

Time seemed to slow as the dagger descended in a shallow arc across Arthur's lift shoulder, leaving a ruby smile in its wake. Arthur's face remained stoic, his lips pressed into a firm line, but Merlin couldn't help but gasp as the icy metal seemed to burn its way through his own skin. Next was his chest, then his right cheek, then his left.

Morgana paused, leering maliciously. "Will you talk?" she demanded. Arthur shook his head silently, not trusting himself to open his mouth out of the desire to conceal the pain he felt racing through him as more hot blood soaked his tunic with every beat of his heart. Morgana's smile only grew.

"How about you, Merlin. You feel his agony. It is within your power to put an end to your mutual suffering. All you have to do is tell me about Camelot's current defenses."

Merlin answered from between clenched teeth. "Never."

The knife flashed once, twice more. Arthur did his best to keep his muscles slack, to minimize the pain, but his entire body screamed at him to give in, to do whatever it took to put an end to the crippling pain. He grit his teeth, ignoring the tears blurring his vision, as Morgana laughed at his distress, carving a winding, shallow cut down his torso from the nape of his neck to his waist. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he remained silent. This was a battle of wills that he refused to lose.

The physical pain was almost unendurable, but worse was the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness as Merlin stood by and watched Arthur sag limply against his chains in a futile effort to avoid the merciless lacerations being traced across his skin. Reaching out for his magic, Merlin bit his cheek in an effort to hold back a cry of utter despair as he felt the same, shadowy barrier blocking his way.

Morgana's satisfied sneer slowly faded, and she hacked at Arthur's unprotected limbs with even more ferocity, until her smile had been replaced with a frown of annoyance at the boys' refusal to yield. Glowering, her eyes flashed gold, and the dagger began to pulse with the same ethereal light as the walls had the day before when she had revealed the power of the Cave of Souls. This time, she didn't strike directly at Arthur, but at the air in front of his chest, and the blade slowed, sinking into an invisible barrier in midair.

Arthur and Merlin let out simultaneous cries of agony as Merlin's magic swirled in helpless distress. It felt as if someone had stabbed at his chest with a dull knife, and was now attempting to pull his heart from between his ribs with their bare hands. Merlin bent over and clutched his arms to his chest in a fruitless effort to shield himself from the pain, but Morgana slashed again and again, sending endless spears of agony resounding through his very soul.

Merlin had faced dragons, avancs, goblins, bandits, trolls, witches, assassins, and even the undead, but never had he felt the same numb terror as he did now, gazing at Morgana's face, twisted into an animalistic snarl with blind hatred and fury. The torment seemed to stretch on endlessly, for days, even, and Merlin began to wonder how he and Arthur were still even alive, let alone conscious.

Then, through the haze of red and gold, Arthur heard a voice. A voice that didn't belong to him, or Merlin, or even Morgana. The pain came to a sudden halt, leaving only a steady throb in its place, and Arthur's eyes snapped open. They weren't alone.


	10. Chapter 10

Relief flooded through Arthur along with the irrational hope that the new arrival was a friend… maybe Leon, or Gwaine, Percival, or Elyan… here to rescue them. But upon closer scrutiny, Arthur realized that the man standing there was most definitely not a knight of Camelot. His stomach plummeted.

"M'lady." The man bowed so low that his nose brushed against the edge of his rusty chainmail before kneeling and outstretching his hand toward Morgana. Morgana ignored his proffered hand and sent him a fiery glare that could have melted steel.

"What are you doing here?" She hissed.

The mercenary_, for that is what he must be_, Arthur decided, hastily stumbled to his feet and cowered at the expression on his mistress's face. "I have an important message for you."

Morgana's thinly veiled rage finally took over, and with three large strides, she was at the man's side, gripping the front of his chainmail shirt threateningly. "And what," she seethed, "could possibly be of enough importance to dare to show your face here when I didn't send for you and am obviously very busy?"

What little color was left drained from the mercenary's face, and his expression was one of pure terror. "I-I mean- it is. It's very important," he choked out.

Morgana released him disdainfully. "What is it?"

"It's the army at the border… They- I mean we… err…"

"Get on with it!" Morgana spat impatiently, and the rest of the man's words came out in a barely-intelligible jumble.

"We'vebeenspottedmylady. ByapatrolfromCamelot."

Morgana let out a shout of fury, and the messenger fell to the floor, dead. She turned back toward Arthur, and he had only time to notice that her face was curiously blank before she had reached him, and slipped a dagger between his ribs. "You will pay for this, Arthur Pendragon," she whispered harshly. But Arthur was already gone.

Merlin gasped as the cold steel punctured Arthur's side, and could only watch as Morgana swept from the dungeon, intent on revenge. A strange, white rushing noise filled him, and he felt oddly detached, as if watching the scene before him from afar. His magic surged within him, and suddenly Merlin was at Arthur's side. He thought he heard someone scream Arthur's name; perhaps it was him, but he couldn't be sure. The only thought that registered as he desperately tried to stem the warm, sticky blood gushing from his best friend's side was, _how could this be happening?_

Frantically, Merlin gripped Arthur's shoulder to shake him awake, but the Prince remained stony-faced and motionless, his skin cold to the touch and only the barest of breaths escaping from between his pale lips. Arthur was dying, and Merlin knew he could do nothing to stop it.

He sobbed at the unfairness of it all. They would never fulfill their destiny. Merlin had failed. What good was being the most powerful warlock to have ever lived, a figure of prophecy, one side of a coin, if he couldn't even save a life when it mattered most? He and Arthur had so much more left to do together. So many more useless hunting trips to take, mind-numbingly boring banquets to attend, ridiculously dangerous quests to embark on, laughter to share, and smiles to exchange when they thought no one was looking. None of it would ever happen now.

Merlin angrily swiped away his tears and pulled Arthur closer, ignoring the fact that he could feel Arthur's life force growing ever fainter; the more he tried to hold on to it, the faster it faded, fleeing from his fierce grasp. "Stay with me you clotpole," he muttered, but Arthur, per usual, didn't listen to his pleas.

The minutes dragged on into hours, and Arthur's stormy blue eyes remained closed, the blood drying on the stones beneath him as he grew colder and colder and his pulse weakened. A last silvery puff of air left Arthur's lips and floated lazily in the frigid air before all went silent. Merlin's chest ached hollowly, and he realized that he was alone. Raising his face to the heavens concealed far above them, Merlin howled his grief to the uncaring stones above, and with an explosion of gold, everything went dark.

**A/N: Haha another cliffy... I feel so mean leaving you like this, but don't worry, I'm already writing the next part. :) Poor Arthur and Merlin... And what will happen to Camelot? Will it fall? All will be revealed soon, I promise.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I had lots of fun with this one... I'm a huge fan of all the knights, and writing from Leon's POV was especially entertaining since it's not something I usually do. Hopefully I portrayed him accurately... let me know! Enjoy. :)... there's plenty more to come.**

The forest was silent save for the pounding of horses' hooves and the soft jingle of chainmail against armor as the patrol moved out. War was coming, and Leon knew that constant patrols were vital in the effort to avoid a costly ambush, whether or not the king was in a stable enough mindset to order them carried out himself.

Shifting in the saddle, Leon waved his men forward and sighed. Prince Arthur and his manservant Merlin had disappeared in the night over three weeks ago, and the King had driven himself mad in the search for his son- to the point that Leon and Gaius were the only two who still dared approach Uther and braved his wrath and capricious temper. A week ago, after the fifth round of search parties had returned empty-handed, Merlin and Arthur had been proclaimed dead, and Uther had practically abandoned the running of the kingdom to his advisors, withdrawing to his chambers and becoming a grief-stricken shell of his former self within a meager span of a few days.

Gaius continued to insist that Merlin and Arthur were still alive, and only worked harder to discover their location as time passed and the odds of their survival shrank down to almost nothing. But endless nights spent pouring over maps and ancient texts were starting to show in the shadowy bags under his eyes, his shoulders slumping a bit more every day in a manifestation of his fading hope.

War was on the horizon, and Camelot left without a leader. Morale was incredibly low; Leon could see it in the uncharacteristically somber silence of the knights at mealtimes, the deep frowns etched across the faces of the townspeople, and even in the subdued atmosphere among the castle staff. Without a king, Camelot would fall, and every man, woman, and child knew it. They were doomed.

The sun fell behind the trees and the shadows lengthened, seeming to claw at the horses as the trees swayed in a biting wind from the north. Leon held up a hand wearily. They would not make it back to Camelot tonight. "We'll set up camp here for the night." He ordered.

The knights murmured their fatigued consent, and dismounted to tend to their mounts and collect firewood, the same grim silence hanging over the campsite like a shroud. After brushing down his horse, Leon gingerly made his way over to the cook fire, silently cursing his sore muscles, and lowered himself down on a log next to an overworked-looking Elyan. He squeezed Elyan's shoulder gently in a futile attempt to raise his comrade's spirits. "Almost home, hmm?"

Elyan nodded dispassionately, his mind obviously elsewhere. "If only Arthur were here," he muttered, stabbing irritably at the dirt at his feet with a stick. "Perhaps then we'd have a chance."

Leon was at a loss for words, having no comfort to offer due to the same doubts lurking at the back of his own mind. "I know…" he managed quietly. "I know."

After consuming a flavorless stew consisting of reconstituted rations, Leon offered to take the first watch with Lancelot opting to join him, and the rest of the knights sent him halfhearted smiles of gratitude before seeking their bedrolls. Soon, the camp was silent save for the soft crack of the undergrowth beneath Lancelot's pacing feet and Gwaine's throaty snores from across the clearing. Leon's eyelids drooped heavily, and he quickly shook his head and took several deep breaths of the frosty night air to dispel the weariness. Sleep still threatened to overcome him, and Leon was considering adopting Lancelot's method of pacing to keep him awake when a flash of golden light blazed through the trees for mere seconds before fading back to inky darkness.

Leon jolted upright in shock. "Did you see that!?" he whispered hoarsely. Lancelot nodded in confusion, and the two knights crept through the trees in a tacit agreement to investigate the source of the mysterious light. Trees loomed, ghostlike out of the gloom, and the crunch of Lancelot's footsteps slowly faded, leaving Leon alone with the whistling of the wind and the singing of his own pulse in his ears. He shivered and gripped the hilt of his sword reassuringly before moving on. Something strange was at work here, and Leon resisted the urge to call Lancelot back for fear of openly advertising their presence to whatever unknown entity lurked in the forest with them.

Suddenly a startled yell echoed through the trees, sending goosebumps prickling up and down Leon's arms, and he broke into a run towards the source of the commotion, grimly certain that the shout had been Lancelot's. He tore out of the woods, suddenly finding himself at the edge of a small lake, gleaming silver in the moonlight. Two dark figures stood in stark contrast with the glistening of the water; one moved, and the other remained ominously still.

"Lancelot!" Leon exclaimed. He sprinted the rest of the way down the slope, sword at the ready to avenge what-or who-ever had attacked his brother-in-arms. What he saw made him pause in utter bewilderment, his blade thudding point-first into the damp soil. Lancelot had fallen to his knees, cradling an ashen-faced _Arthur_ in his arms. Blood spattered the blonde man's face and stained his tunic, and for a moment Leon's heart clenched in dread. But then Lancelot looked up at him, a grin of utter disbelief lighting up his face, and Leon made out the shallow rise and fall of his prince's chest in the moonlight. Could it be?

Sinking down beside Lancelot, Leon gently probed the prince's wrist, finding a pulse; weak and erratic, but still there. He let out an incredulous laugh of pure relief. With Arthur alive, perhaps their circumstances weren't so hopeless after all.

It wasn't until later that night, as the patrol raced across the darkened countryside towards Camelot, that Leon had a moment of realization that hit him like a ton of bricks. His heart sank. Where was Merlin?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Whew, I LOVE break! Soo much free time, and this story really has me going. Lucky for all of you, I can't stop writing, so maybe I'll even have another chapter posted tonight. If not, then tomorrow... So Arthur's ALIVE... Hmm... wonder how that happened... :) Magic perhaps? And for those of you who asked about Merlin, just know that I'm not THAT mean... but as for his whereabouts... You'll have to wait and see. :P**

**Just because I realized I never clarified when this story takes place, I wanted it to be after season three to include amazing characters like Gwaine and Elyan, but before Uther's death in season four.**

**Anyway, here we go;**

Waking up was like rolling out of a warm bed to meet the cold, unforgiving air of early morning, and suddenly Arthur wasn't so sure he wanted to regain consciousness. His head pounded, and everything hurt, especially his left side, which currently felt like someone was twisting a burning knife in his flesh. He didn't seem to have a choice though, and he came fully awake with a gasp, attempting to sit up and immediately wishing he hadn't. The room spun, and although he had barely eaten anything for weeks, Arthur felt the overwhelming urge to be violently ill.

He fell back with a groan of agony and tried vainly to impose some sort of order upon his clouded thoughts. Footsteps clattered frantically towards him, and someone clutched at his wrist, calling his name. But it all seemed so far away, distanced from him by an impenetrable haze of pain, and Arthur wished it would all just go away so that he could return to the peaceful solitude of unconsciousness.

Something was forced down his throat, and Arthur choked and coughed, desperately wanting to escape. But gradually the throbbing faded to a dull ache, and he peeled his eyes open once more. Gaius and Guinevere sat by his bedside, staring at him anxiously, and Arthur found himself racking his brain, trying to remember what he'd done to land himself in the physician's quarters this time.

Suddenly it all came flooding back; capture, Morgana, torture… He'd been dying… was he dead? Surely death couldn't hurt this much, so he must be alive then… the binding curse, Merlin… Merlin!

Arthur sat bolt upright, resisting the gentle hands that tried to push him back down onto the mattress. "Merlin! Where's Merlin?"

He scanned the room frantically. How on earth did they get back to Camelot? Wasn't there supposed to be a war? And where was Merlin? "Merlin!" He swung his legs off the side of the bed in an effort to stand, but Gaius forced him back down. He noticed the unbidden tears that had welled up in Guinevere's eyes and the hollow expression lining Gaius's aged face. His heart froze. No.

"They- they didn't find him," Gwen choked. "Merlin is… Merlin's gone, Arthur."

"No…" he murmured brokenly. "No."

Guinevere's tears spilled over, and she gave his hand a final squeeze before fleeing the room, sobbing. Even Gaius, solid, dependable Gaius, seemed on the verge of collapse, almost inhumanly miserable and frail, and Arthur shut his eyes again, the same word repeating over and over in his head to the pounding of his heart. No… no… no… Merlin couldn't be dead, because Arthur would know. He would _feel_ it. The dreadful emptiness that had filled him when Merlin died in one of Morgana's drug-induced dreams was notably absent, and while his torso felt as if the knights had used it as a practice dummy, he still felt _whole_. No, Merlin wasn't dead.

But when he voiced this to Gaius, the old physician simply shook his head, grief flooding his expression once again, and he looked as if he had aged twenty years in less than a second. Turning away in frustration and changing the subject, Arthur was informed that Leon and Lancelot had found him while on patrol and had rushed him back to Camelot, barely making it in time to save him from what appeared to be a fatal, yet partially-healed, stab wound. And… an army of nearly twenty-thousand was mere days away from the walls of the city.

This time, nothing could keep Arthur in bed. He shoved his way past Gaius, who managed to press a vial of elixir and another dose of pain-reliever in Arthur's hand before he left his chambers behind, striding purposefully through the corridors toward the council room. With any luck, he'd find his father there.

Arthur no longer even registered the pain as he swept through the castle, leaving a trail of astonished servants in his wake. He brushed off the concerned calls from his knights and the shocked glances from noblemen and their wives as he neared his destination. He had to stop Morgana's army before they reached the city.

He found his father seated alone in the council chambers, staring intently at a full-scale map of the surrounding countryside. His footsteps faltered momentarily at his father's haggard appearance. Despite the king's desire to hold himself aloof from his only son and heir and Arthur's doubts that his father truly loved him, it was painfully apparent that Uther's health had suffered greatly in Arthur's absence.

Arthur allowed himself a moment of disgust at his father's weakness and consequent disregard for the people of Camelot when faced with a personal loss. But suddenly he realized that, despite Uther's relentless mantra of 'no man is worth your tears' and his endless lectures over the years about being a strong king, that he and Arthur shared a fatal flaw. They were only human, no matter how hard they tried to deny it, and while a good king should possess such empathy, it could also be their downfall. Arthur had to admit that, had Merlin actually been dead, he probably wouldn't have been able to force himself out of the sickbay and onto the battlefield either. But Merlin wasn't dead. So here he was. Arthur hastily pushed all thoughts of Merlin to the back of his mind and joined his father at the table, ignoring the relieved, confused, and concerned glances being sent in his direction.

He stared at the map for a moment before pointing at an expanse a day's ride from the city, west of the Forest of Esetir. "We'll meet them in open battle here, where we can have the advantage of higher ground to match their numbers."

"Yes…" Uther agreed, opening and closing his mouth and looking as if he wanted to say more. But Arthur shook his head and pointedly turned away. All his father felt was overwhelming relief for his son's safe return. Bitterly, Arthur realized that his father probably didn't even care enough to mourn or eve acknowledge Merlin's continued… absence.

"I'll tell the knights to prepare for battle," Arthur stated flatly, and he swept from the council chambers as abruptly as he had entered, leaving a baffled and somewhat perturbed king in his wake.


	13. Chapter 13

Sunrise the next morning found Arthur, along with Camelot's entire garrison, armed to the teeth, and riding towards the chosen battlefield on the Plains of Esetir. Shouts rang out over the rhythmic stomping of hooves, and crimson Pendragon banners snapped in the brisk wind that blew at their backs. The troops' morale had skyrocketed with the miraculous return of their prince, and the preparations for battle had been made with an unprecedented sense of enthusiasm. Several knights, including Elyan, Percival, Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon, had already gone out of their way to offer him words of faith, or claps on the shoulder to show their support, and Arthur found himself questioning for the second time in as many weeks just what he'd done to deserve such unwavering loyalty.

But as the day went on and the blinding summer sun rose higher in the sky, Arthur's discomfort grew with every jolt from the charger beneath him. While Gaius's remedy remained sufficient in blocking the pain from his wounds inflicted by Morgana, a new pain had blossomed in his chest around midmorning, and Arthur found himself hunched over in the saddle in a futile attempt to relieve the ache that grew with every step. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and Arthur found himself concentrating all his flagging energy on staying upright and conscious. He dared not take any more painkiller for fear of knocking himself out, so he resigned himself to a long and arduous ride until they stopped for the night.

If asked later to recount the rest of the ride to the Plains, Arthur would admit that he honestly couldn't remember any of it, as he blindly stumbled into his tent that night and curled into a tight ball on his bedroll. Around him, the clamor of the army settling down to prepare and eat dinner rang out into the darkening sky, but he was deaf to it all, absorbed with his own anguish.

The only time he could recall ever experiencing more pain was when Morgana tried to force him to exit the cave to test the bond she had created between him and Merlin. He stiffened. So Merlin must be alive, then. He'd simply done something to stretch their bond to its absolute limits. Arthur almost sobbed with relief that he wasn't crazy in believing that Merlin was still alive. Finally giving in to the pain with this realization, Arthur sank into the welcome darkness of oblivion.

The next morning, to Arthur's immense relief, the unbearable torment from the day before had disappeared, replaced by a slight tugging sensation at his navel that, while slightly unsettling, was much more tolerable. Arthur rolled to his feet and stretched cautiously, careful not to aggravate any of his wounds, and slowly dressed himself. Although he would never admit it, he missed Merlin's bright grin and banter as he helped him into his armor, and would have given anything at that moment to have his friend back at his side. Arthur sighed and pushed the tent flap open, revealing a day as bright as the one prior. He _would_ find Merlin. It would just have to wait until after the battle was won.

He was standing atop a grassy bluff surveying the opposing army below when a smaller hand found its way into his own and the scent of lavender wafted by on the breeze.

"Guinevere," he smiled slightly.

"How are you?" she asked softly.

He shrugged, then pulled her in for a quick kiss. "Better now that you're here."

She pursed her lips in content acknowledgement, but the worry never left her eyes. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry. Merlin… Merlin was a dear friend to me, and I know he meant even more to you."

Arthur nodded in response and looked at the ground. He know he couldn't continue to express his surety that Merlin was still alive without drawing unwanted concern towards his mental health, as he had no physical evidence of his friend's survival. But he wished they understood.

They stood in comfortable silence, watching as the army in the distance grew from a smudge on the horizon to a great, teeming mass of dark figures marching imposingly toward their camp. Hoarse shouts and the deep thrum of drumbeats carried on the wind, as the twin columns of soldiers grinded to a halt on the ridge opposite the one occupied by Camelot's forces. Arthur squeezed Gwen's hand gently. "I want you to promise me something," he murmured.

She turned and looked at him intently. "Anything."

"Just… stay safe tomorrow. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." He refrained from adding an unspoken '_too'_ at the end.

Gwen gazed back at him, eyes full of understanding, but face hardening in resolve. "I can try," she replied. "But I have a duty to help the wounded, just as you have a duty to protect the people and lands of Camelot. I didn't come here to stand by and watch as hundreds, even thousands of men die, and friends and family members put their lives at risk. You have to understand, that while I will pray that you make it back safely when the battle is over, I also realize that participating in combat is something you must do. And I ask you to do the same."

Arthur stared at her for a moment, surprised at such a passionate response, but pride filled him at her strength and determination to do what she believed was right. "Of course," he whispered. And they stood together as the sky darkened, and the moon rose above the field that tomorrow would be soaked in blood.

Gwen excused herself, pleading exhaustion, and Arthur knew he should follow her example and head to bed himself. But something kept him anchored to the hilltop until long after both camps had fallen silent, and he was lift alone with the wind, whistling eerily through the grass.

"Where are you, Merlin?"

**A/N: Ugh, I am terrible at writing romance of any kind, but I tried... Let me know what you think. I miss Merlin! Luckily, he should be back in either the next chapter or the one after that. Yay! :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Here's a monstrosity of a chapter, and boy was it fun to write... pretty intense if I may say so myself. :) Merlin's back and battle is imminent, so things are bound to get interesting. Sorry, it took me slightly longer than I was anticipating, but I had to get it exactly right... Anyway please enjoy! And don't hesitate to let me know what you think. I've never attempted to write a battlescene on this grand of a scale before... But I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out.**

A thick, soupy fog lay over the battlefield in the pre-dawn light as both camps began to stir and prepare for combat. Arthur roused himself from fitful sleep and pulled on his chainmail, shivering as the frigid steel links came in contact with freshly-healed skin. He wasn't sure exactly how long he had actually slept last night… and how many hours he had spent simply lying there, staring at the canopy of the tent. The incessant tugging sensation had only grown, and Arthur found himself relieved that Merlin wasn't here to participate in the upcoming battle. He wasn't ready to see his friend hurt again. Not that he ever would be. But it was better this way, for there was no chance of Merlin being killed when Arthur couldn't be there to protect him if he wasn't actually in combat himself.

Absently, Arthur wondered what would happen to his friend if he were to die. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as he realized that this… bond… seemed like the kind of thing where, 'if I die, you die.' Arthur pulled a face. He'd have to make sure to stay alive then.

Draping his cloak over his shoulders, Arthur took a deep breath, steeled himself, and marched from the tent, calling for Leon to organize the knights in battle formation. They would strike before the sun was up. He pulled himself up onto his horse, wincing as the motion pulled at his wounds, and rode to the forefront of the commotion to stand by his father. Uther turned to look at him appraisingly, and must have seen something he didn't like, for his expression darkened.

"I want you to stay back," he ordered. "You still aren't fully recovered from your…wounds, and Camelot cannot afford to lose her prince simply because you are too stubborn to listen to reason."

Arthur shook his head mulishly. His father had been informed of Morgana's role in his capture and torture, and his reaction had ranged from continued irrational denial to a terrifying sort of blind fury that reminded Arthur uncannily of the expression on Morgana's face before she stabbed him. It was clear that his father was no longer the man, or the king, that he once was, and that Morgana's betrayal had finally driven his already-fragile mental state over the edge several times over. No, Arthur knew his men needed him to lead them into battle. They would ride into the mouth of hell for him, so he would gladly do it for them in return.

"I will not," he declared, setting his jaw, but his father was no longer listening. Arthur wheeled his horse around and went to stand beside Leon. His stomach gave a strange lurch, but he pushed all thoughts of Merlin from his mind. "How are they?" he asked, motioning towards the ranks forming in the dew-soaked grass.

"They're nervous, but determined and ready to fight for their kingdom. You know they'd to anything you ask, sire."

Arthur nodded morosely. "I know."

Horns sounded through the gloom, and Arthur hefted his sword into the air. "For the love of Camelot!"

His shout was echoed by thousands of voices behind him, and with a fierce battle cry, the enemy was upon them. Arthur let instinct guide him as he cut down the ragtag soldiers before him with practiced ease, sword biting through leather and chainmail like a knife through butter. He grinned in satisfaction as he realized that, while their numbers were significantly larger than those of Camelot's army, their skills in combat were seriously lacking. Determined that this would be their downfall, Arthur grabbed a rusty saber from a fallen mercenary and used it along with his own weapon to carve a devastatingly wide path of destruction through the enemy ranks, dual blades flashing in the sunlight.

The conflict raged on, and the tide of battle carried Leon away to be replaced by Gwaine, and later Percival; both at his side momentarily before they too were swept away. His borrowed blade snapped under a particularly vicious blow from a mercenary's club, and Arthur was forced to duck hastily as the cudgel whistled harmlessly over his head. Stabbing his opponent through the chest, Arthur found himself alone, the only warrior in red, surrounded by at least fifteen of Morgana's men. They approached him hesitantly, wary of meeting the same fate that had befallen their vanquished comrades at the prince's hand. Breathing heavily, Arthur spun around to assess his options. He cursed softly as he realized that no help was in sight. Which left him one option; if he was going to go down, he'd go down fighting.

Arthur gave his sword an experimental spin and grinned dangerously. "Who wants to go first?" And they were upon him. Three down, four. Arthur's smile slipped slightly as a stray dagger sliced open a small cut just below his elbow. While not an overly serious wound, the blood dripping down his wrist compromised his grip on the hilt of his sword, and Arthur began to doubt his odds of survival. Not that he had much of a chance in the first place.

All of a sudden, the familiar tugging sensation in his stomach intensified, and he stumbled to his left, physically incapable of resisting its pull. Doubled over slightly, Arthur adjusted his grasp on his sword and decapitated a mercenary running at him with a spear. He felt utterly drained, and wanted nothing more than for it all to stop.

Two more soldiers fell at his feet, and arrows began to whistle through the air from the enemy camp, only to be answered by a counter-volley from the knights. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his collar and pulled him to the ground, as a missile hissed by his right ear and appeared again sticking out of the stomach of a tall warrior to his left.

Whirling around with a snarl, Arthur felt himself being dragged to his feet, and two bony shoulder blades being pressed against his own. A warm feeling rushed through him, and Arthur discovered to his surprise that he felt rejuvenated, with more energy than he'd had before the battle had even begun.

"You can never manage to stay out of trouble, can you, sire?"

Arthur's heart sang. "Merlin!" He whirled around and found his friend's azure eyes sparkling back at him. Suddenly, they widened in alarm, and Arthur made out a dark, beast-like shape lunging at him out of the corner of his eye. Before he could react, Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and the beast fell to the ground with a thud, dead.

Suddenly it all clicked into place. Magic. Of course. It all made sense now. What else could explain all those close calls, those miracles; all those times when he should have died, but didn't? Merlin had magic, and had used it to save his life countless times, regardless of the risk in a kingdom where his abilities were outlawed on pain of death. His father had always maintained that magic was evil, and Arthur had seen the abuses of such power hundreds of times with his own eyes. Yet he knew that not all magic users were inherently evil, and that his father had only given sorcerers more reason to revolt with his cruelty.

Still, Arthur knew he should be angry, if not for the magic itself, then for all the lies. He should feel betrayed, resentful, but he wasn't. How could he be, when his friend had obviously sacrificed so much? All Arthur wanted to do was shake him, and demand what could possibly have possessed him put his life at risk so many times for an arrogant prince who in no way deserved his loyalty. Or his friendship for that matter.

"Arthur?" Merlin murmured hesitantly, and Arthur realized he had been staring blankly at his friend for several moments, utterly speechless. Looking into the raven-haired boy's eyes, he was alarmed to see apprehension and fear. Fear. Merlin, his one and only true friend, was _scared_ of him.

Arthur let out an incredulous laugh and pulled his friend's lanky frame into a hug, embracing him tightly against his chest. "Thank you," he whispered, and he felt Merlin relax. He pulled away reluctantly and clasped his friend's forearm in a firm grip, looking at him intently. "For everything."

A blinding grin spread across Merlin's dirt-smudged face, and Arthur felt a fierce urge to protect this man; his other half, he realized, with or without the spell that bound them together. Morgana's men closed in, and Arthur instinctively pulled Merlin behind him. But his friend grabbed his wrist and shook his head. "Not this time."

Arthur answered his friend's smile with one of his own, and they stood back-to-back, ready to face anything their enemies could throw at them. "Stay with me," Arthur murmured, and they both took up defensive stances, each knowing with complete certainty that the other had their back and would never let any harm come to them.

Morgana had summoned horrifying creatures of all kinds, and her army, while somewhat weakened, was nowhere near defeated. Arthur eagerly jumped back into the fray, and slayed anyone or anything that came within the range of his blade, fighting with a fierce exultation that he had never experienced before. This is how it should be, he realized, and he knew Merlin felt the same way. Together, they were unstoppable. Arthur's sword pulsed with a faint blue light, and a nimbus of azure fire surrounded them, sending their enemies stumbling back in terror. His soul sang with every swing of his sword, and rumors spread like wildfire among both armies about an invincible duo who fought as one; druid renegades among Morgana's forces threw down their weapons or fled instantly at the news, each one certain that the time of prophecy was upon them. For only Emrys and the Once and Future King could inspire such awe among friends and foes alike.

The sun emerged from behind the clouds, and a single shaft of light illuminated the battlefield as Morgana's army rallied to make a final charge. The ruby-clad knights of Camelot stood firm as a tide of howling mercenaries charged at their ranks, and the shadowy creatures took up the left flank, drawn to the legendary aura surrounding Merlin and Arthur like moths to a candle flame. Trolls stood beside wraiths, which marched next to goblins and sidhe. It was a force of nightmare, but the prince and his warlock didn't flinch. Arthur raised his sword, glinting in the sunlight, and Merlin's eyes gleamed golden.

"Ready?" he grinned.

Arthur smirked. "I was born ready."

Merlin nodded, and his grin grew even wider. "Me too."

And they stood side-by-side as hell's army rushed towards them in an inexorable stampede that shook the plains.

**A/N: To be continued... very soon, hopefully. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

Merlin never thought he'd be _smiling_ as a gigantic army of creatures straight out of one of Gaius's books charged at him head on, nor did he ever expect Arthur to flat out accept his magic without the barest trace of resentment, but here he was.

"I suppose miracles _do_ happen," he murmured to himself, and the beasts were upon them. Arthur slashed and parried, slaying creatures right and left, as Merlin waged his own war with eyes flaming. Arthur let out a slightly hysterical laugh. It seemed as if nothing could touch them; neither spell nor blade, and soon an eerie silence fell over their area of battlefield, the clash of steel on steel and the tortured cries of dying men sounding faintly in the distance, where the conflict still raged.

Dark mounds of corpses surrounded them, and Arthur sank to his knees, suddenly exhausted. Merlin knelt down beside him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. They sat in companionable silence for several moments, secure in the knowledge that the other was there, and stared at the carnage before them.

Arthur shook his head wearily and dragged himself to his feet. "We'd better go help the knights repel the last of Morgana's forces," he murmured.

Merlin nodded, but something wasn't quite right. Something in the odd, muffled hush that had fallen over the plains made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. "Perhaps we should scout around here first," he suggested, gesturing to the scene of destruction before him. "Just to make sure they don't pose any more of a threat."

Nodding tiredly, Arthur stabbed his sword into the ground and snagged a splintered spear from the grass at his feet as he surveyed the dead, weapon held ready put an end to any creature still clinging to life. Merlin shivered with unease as Arthur slowly wandered farther from his reach, and stared after him for a minute before shaking himself impatiently.

"Come on, Merlin. Now's not the time to be a girl." He muttered to himself, and selected his own weapon from those discarded on the field. A great peal of thunder sounded and lightning cracked across the sky, which was darkening at an unnatural rate, ashen clouds hanging heavily over the battlefield. It seemed that Morgana was making a last-ditch effort of her own.

Merlin instinctively began to pick his way back to Arthur's side as a violent wind picked up, howling mournfully through the high grass and blowing the hair back from Merlin's forehead. A dingy white fog rose from the damp soil below, crackling with a malicious power, and Merlin broke into a run, stumbling over the bodies below his feet. This was no ordinary storm.

Soon everything was shrouded in mist, and Merlin could only just make out Arthur's blond head shining in the gloom. "Arthur!" he cried urgently, but his friend had his gaze elsewhere, staring in horror at something off to his right that Merlin couldn't see. A shriek pierced the air, and Merlin's heart jumped into his throat as he realized this noise wasn't from the wind. A spike of pure fear sent adrenaline racing through his bloodstream, and Merlin frantically pushed himself to move even faster. But it felt as if the air had suddenly turned to molasses, and he could only watch in apprehension as a ghostly figure stepped out of the haze and Arthur backed up, step by step, until he found himself blocked off by a solid wall of fog. Trapped.

Summoning the last dregs of strength, Merlin grit his teeth and forced his way through the fog, finding himself on the other side of a clearing of sorts in the sea of mist. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized the figure looming between him and Arthur. She couldn't be here. She was supposed to be dead. How…?

Then he realized, and the knowledge hit him like a kick to the stomach. Morgana had brought her sister, Morgause, back from the dead, and Arthur was now facing a vengeful, not to mention powerful, wraith with nothing but a broken spear. With dreadful slowness, she turned to face Merlin, and he was confronted with a familiar, cruel grin that twisted her skeletal face. No trace of her former beauty remained in this spectral form, and a swirling, stygian void swirled in her empty eye-sockets as she surveyed him carefully.

"Ah, Merlin. Such impeccable timing… my sister wants both of you dead anyway, and this makes things so much simpler." She cocked her head. "Although I suppose I could have rid us of both of you with just Arthur, but where's the fun in killing one of you without your other half here as well? Two for the price of one, hmm?" Her cackle was dry and mechanical, like the screech of a dagger being dragged against the cobblestones. "My sister did an exquisite job binding your souls; you should consider yourselves fortunate. I have never seen anything like it. Too bad you'll be dead before you can truly come to appreciate the full ramifications of the bond between you."

"So it seems," Arthur spat, but his defiance only made Morgause's contorted grin broaden.

"My sister was… enraged when the two of you miraculously managed to evade death and escape from her dungeons, and I must admit I'm curious. So before I kill you, tell me. How did you do it? Perhaps I'll make your deaths quick and less agonizing."

Arthur stood silently, honestly completely in the dark when it came to his escape and Merlin's survival. But Merlin had no such qualms. He smirked, wiggling his fingers sarcastically. "Magic…"

And before the word had completely left his lips, Merlin reached inside himself to the core of his being, where an orb of pure power thrummed with the accelerated beating of his heart, easily finding the luminous strand that linked his life force to Arthur's. He may not have Excalibur, but some hidden intuition told him that there was another way to slay a wraith, another source of magic older than time itself, a force that far surpassed mortal magic. A gleaming broadsword found its way into his hand as his eyes burned like never before, harnessing the pure magic binding his soul to his friend's.

The blade flew effortlessly through the air, landing neatly in Arthur's outstretched hand as if it was made for him, and he lunged forward, burying the sword up to the hilt in Morgause's stomach, her cracked lips making a wide 'O' of surprise before she was consumed in flame.

Merlin and Arthur's eyes met, and Merlin felt complete relief wash over him. They did it. Arthur swayed on his feet. "Why can't you do stuff like that in training?" he managed, grinning weakly, before everything went black.

**A/N: Hey, everyone. So I didn't exactly explain Merlin's part of the story in this chapter, but the end of the battle kind of took on a life of its own. Next one, I promise. :) Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	16. Chapter 16

Merlin slowly opened his eyes to find himself staring at the familiar ceiling of Gaius's chambers. He racked his brain for several moments, trying to remember what kind of harebrained scheme of Arthur's could have possibly made him so _tired_. He dragged himself up to a sitting position, every muscle in his body groaning in protest. He sighed wearily. Even lifting his arm took a ridiculous amount of effort.

The door to his room creaked open and Gaius, seeing that his patient had returned to the land of the living, rushed over to his bedside. Merlin stared at his friend in concern. Gaius looked as if he had suddenly aged ten years, new creases and worry-lines lining his weathered face. But something akin to pure joy and relief shone in his pale eyes, and suddenly all the memories came rushing back. Gaius lowered himself onto a stool next to his ward's bed and gripped Merlin's hands in a death grip.

Gaius looked about to say something, but a burning question pushed its way out of Merlin's mouth before the physician could speak.

"Where's Arthur?"

Gaius smiled gently. "The prince is doing just fine. He's on the cot out in the other room."

Merlin made to stand up, but Gaius held him back. "Merlin, you need to rest. I promise there will be plenty of time to see Arthur when you are further from the brink of complete exhaustion. And that goes for both of you."

Merlin sagged back against the wall, bones leaden and hands trembling with fatigue. He hastily hid them under the blankets. "I'm fine, Gaius. Please, I need to see him."

"You are most certainly not fine. And that's the problem. Leon found you and Arthur on the battlefield after sunset two days ago, looking for all the world to be dead. Yet neither of you displayed any serious injuries, and your pulses, while faint, were steady, so we brought you back here."

"We've been sleeping for two days!?"

Gaius nodded gravely and stared at Merlin intently. "Merlin, tell me what happened to you over the last few weeks. We thought you were dead."

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. "Let me guess; Arthur insisted that I wasn't."

Gaius's eyes widened in surprise. "Well… yes. We thought he was simply in shock, but he had knife cuts all over his body and a partially-healed stab wound that very well should have been fatal." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "He said Morgana… Morgana captured you."

Merlin nodded, reluctant to elaborate. He needed to see Arthur with an urgency that grew with every beat of his heart. Although he didn't feel the same horrible emptiness as he had after Arthur had momentarily died, or the agonizing tearing sensation that had pushed him onward to find Arthur before the battle, he was filled with a kind of blind desire to be reunited with his other half, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold out.

"Please, I need to see him."

Gaius squeezed his hand. "Merlin…"

"Gaius, please."

"Perhaps after you eat. You need to regain your strength. But first, at least tell me this; what happened to you and Arthur during the battle?"

Merlin shook his head. "It's a very long story, and I'm not sure that I completely understand it myself. But I will tell you, I promise. Just as soon as Arthur wakes up. I'd like to know his side of the story as well."

Gaius sighed in resignation and handed Merlin a bowl of steaming broth. "Eat," he ordered. "If you finish, then you can go see Arthur, although he has yet to wake up."

Surprised to find that he was actually starving, Merlin eagerly poured the broth down his throat, wincing as he scalded his tongue in the process. His head felt much clearer after having eaten something, and he forced his legs over the side of the bed, as Gaius sighed again and moved to help him up and down the stairs.

By the time they reached Arthur's bedside, Merlin's legs were trembling so violently he could hardly stand, and Gaius was practically carrying him. The physician frowned at how little his ward weighed. Merlin was skinny as a rail at best, but after weeks of eating next to nothing… he shuddered, setting the boy down in a chair close by and rushing to fetch another bowl of soup.

Merlin allowed his eyes to slip shut momentarily, and finally the room stopped spinning. He looked down at his best friend in the bed before him and winced. Arthur's skin was unnaturally pale, and purple, almost bruise-like shadows lingered under his eyes. A blood-stained bandage covered both his right forearm and his bare torso, the crimson stains standing out boldly against his ghostly pallor. Merlin's grimace grew as he realized he could count every one of his friend's ribs.

"Arthur," he murmured, but the prince didn't stir. He reached out his hand and placed it gingerly on his friend's forehead, relieved to find it a normal temperature. Warmth flooded him, chasing away some of his remaining exhaustion, and Merlin blinked in surprise to find a soft golden light emanating from both of them.

He pulled his hand back hastily, relieved that Gaius appeared to be busily spooning something into a bowl across the room. He would find out about their… bond… eventually, but explaining why he and the prince were glowing like a miniature sun was not something Merlin felt like explaining at the moment.

Arthur shifted slightly, and suddenly his eyes shot open. "Merlin…" he gasped, and Merlin grabbed his arm gently.

"I'm here."

Gaius, noticing that his second patient was now awake, rushed over to them, shoving another mug of broth into Merlin's hands and leaning over to search the prince for further injury.

"I'm fine," Arthur protested, propping himself up on his elbows, "just a bit tired, that's all."

Gaius's eyebrows rose incredulously. "_Just a bit tired!_" he exclaimed. "Over the course of the last three weeks, you have been tortured, stabbed nearly to death, and fought in a battle. Of bloody course you keeled over with exhaustion."

Arthur looked completely taken aback at the physician's unusual vehemence, and Merlin blinked in surprise.

"Now," Gaius continued, "You will both eat something, and then you _will_ tell me everything that happened to you over the last several weeks. And I mean everything."

Arthur nodded, slurping down a bowl of vegetable broth. Merlin managed to finish only half of his second bowl, setting in down on the table as his stomach, unused to actually being full, grumbled in protest. Arthur set his empty bowl down beside Merlin's and an expectant silence fell.

"Why don't you start with the night of your disappearance," Gaius prompted, leaning forward.

Arthur motioned for Merlin to go ahead, and he cleared his throat raspily. "Arthur told me his armor needed polishing before the knighting ceremony the next day, so I left his chambers to go to the armory before heading to bed. I was crossing the courtyard when someone hit me from behind, and I woke up later in Morgana's dungeon with this prat, who managed to get himself captured in bed."

A wan smile tugged at the corners of Arthur's mouth, but he was too tired to protest, continuing Merlin's narration about how Morgana had refused all attempts at diplomacy and threatened to torture both of them simultaneously. A look of horrified comprehension grew on Gaius's face, and Arthur glanced at Merlin, unsure how to continue.

"She used a binding curse," he stated flatly.

Gaius sat in shocked silence. "I suppose it makes sense, in a twisted sort of way," he croaked quietly.

"What do you mean?" questioned Arthur.

"Just… just keep going," Gaius urged, and the prince complied, describing the fevered, magic-induced dreams he had experienced. He looked toward Merlin, expecting him to have something to add based upon his own nightmares, but nothing was forthcoming. He continued tersely, explaining Morgana's first method of torture and his confusion when he felt Merlin's agony as if the flail were being whipped against his own back.

Gaius's face had drained of color, but he waved Arthur on, as he described Morgana's test of their bond, supposed history lesson, poisoning, and his own stabbing, where he paused, unsure how to continue. The physician stared at the prince and his ward in utter amazement.

"What Morgana did… to bind your souls… was incredibly dangerous. In fact, I don't think I have ever heard of a case where such a bond was successful… Ever. In all likelihood, the spell should have killed you both within hours, if not instantly."

Merlin nodded. "We know." He sighed. "And Arthur almost did die. When I felt Morgana stab him, I kind of lost it, and my magic broke free and acted on its own. By what I've gathered from Arthur's side of the story, I must have partially healed him and sent him to the first safe place that came to mind; the lake of Avalon. So Leon and Lancelot found Arthur, and I exhausted myself sending him to them." He paused, smiling sheepishly. "I… erm… well let's just say that the cave of souls didn't exactly resemble a cave when I left. More like a smoking mound of rubble."

Arthur let out a short bark of laughter. "Only you, Merlin. You are so accident prone, it's a wonder you've even lasted this long."

Merlin grinned back, but his mirth quickly faded as he returned to his story. "So I woke up eventually outside the cave. I'm really not sure how long it had been, but there was this horrible stabbing pain in my chest, like someone had shoved a barbed hook under my skin and decided to pull me to the west, away from Camelot. I had no choice but to follow, and it's a good thing I did. I arrived at the battlefield just in time to save this ungrateful prat's life, once again."

Arthur punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Aww, come on. Don't tell me you don't enjoy a little action once in a while. Otherwise you'd get bored."

"Yeah, somehow I really don't think I'd miss it that much." Merlin retorted dryly. "Talk about accident-prone, Arthur Pendragon. Do you know how many times I've saved your life?"

Gaius pointedly cleared his throat. "And between the two of you, it's a wonder I haven't died of overwork with all your life-threatening injuries and near-misses. Now tell me, what happened during the battle."

"I found Arthur trying to fight off half of Morgana's army by himself-"

"Hey, it wasn't half of her army! More like a tenth."

Merlin just raised his eyebrow in a scarily accurate imitation of Gaius's signature expression, and they both burst into hysterical laughter. Gaius was less than amused, and his own eyebrows climbed higher and higher, until they were nearly level with his hairline.

After finally calming down, Merlin continued his account, leaving Gaius shell-shocked by it all.

"I think there's someone you should pay a visit," he suggested.

**A/N: Hey, another super long chapter! I'm getting better at those. :) Sorry this took a while... I know all the lengthy explanations in this chapter are a necessary evil, but it was kinda boring to write, even with some added humor/banter. anyway, hope it wasn't too long. Kilgarrah next chapter!**


	17. Chapter 17

It wasn't until several days later that Uther and Gaius finally allowed Arthur and Merlin to take a ride outside the castle walls, and although the prince would have otherwise been extremely glad for the fresh air, his servant had managed to put him in a foul mood once again."

"So let me get this straight," Arthur called out over the pounding of hooves as he and Merlin rode out into the forest. "I _didn't_ actually kill the dragon."

Merlin guided his horse to a stop in the same clearing in which the knights had faced Kilgarrah a little over a year earlier. "Err… no."

They dismounted and Arthur grabbed his arm and turned Merlin to face him, unsure if he should be angry or just plain confused. "So let me guess… You defeated it with magic."

If possible, his friend only looked even more uncomfortable, tracing designs in the dust with the toe of his boot. "Umm… no, not exactly… Do you remember Balinor?"

An expression of troubled realization crossed the prince's face, and all he could manage was a strangled, "Oh…" But inside Arthur's mind was whirling. _Of course! His manservant's strange behaviour, the dragon carving, Merlin's grief over the almost-stranger's death…Balinor was Merlin's father! After he died, Merlin became a dragonlord and defeated Kill-whatever his name is. And I told him no man was worth his tears…_

Merlin, reading into the anguish flickering through his friend's eyes, put a hand on the prince's shoulder and continued. "After you were knocked unconscious and all the other knights were down, scattered across the clearing, I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't let you die as a result of an angered reflex by the dragon in search of revenge. It was your father that Kilgarrah really wished to punish for his betrayal and all the miserable years he spent chained underneath the castle, with the possibility of vengeance as his only light in the darkness. As the last of his race, I couldn't kill him in cold blood when he was acting in grief and retaliation for your father's crimes…" he paused and glanced at Arthur pleadingly. "So I sent him away, and threatened him that if he ever returned, I _would_ kill him."

Arthur nodded, face blank. But he could sense a feeling of underlying guilt still layered under his friend's words. He waited for the story to continue, and didn't have to wait long before Merlin obliged.

"There- there's one more thing I have to tell you," he stammered, and Arthur motioned for him to go on. "It's not going to be easy. You have to understand that I've done many things that I regret, but I had no choice other than to fail you, to fail our destiny." Arthur nodded again, not liking the turn this conversation was taking, and he was suddenly reminded of a very similar conversation regarding poison in Morgana's dungeon.

Merlin swallowed. "It was me. I released the dragon."

Arthur stared at him in utter disbelief and horror. "You-You what?"

"I released the dragon. Ever since the day I arrived in Camelot, Kilgarrah had been advising me about how to protect you, how to defeat the avanc, the troll, the griffon, even how to save your father on several occasions. But from the beginning, he warned me that his advice was by no means free. By the time Morgause had summoned the Knights of Medhir, Kilgarrah had made me swear on my mother's life that I would set him free, knowing that such an oath was completely binding, as her life means more to me than my own. So I released him, hoping beyond hope that my darkest fears wouldn't be realized, that he would display restraint and honor that I had a feeling would fall in the face of his towering anger, that he would leave Camelot untouched. But I had no choice, and was forced to watch as he laid waste to the city and its people, knowing that it was all my fault."

Arthur didn't know how to respond, and was surprised when the inner turmoil that filled his mind turned unbidden to memories of his incident with the unicorn, and his many raids of the druid villages, burning and killing innocent people at his father's orders. He too had made mistakes that hurt his people dearly, had felt trapped by oaths and obligations, and so he supposed he understood and partially forgave his manservant for what he'd done.

He looked up to find Merlin watching him anxiously for a reaction. "I'm sorry," he murmured, stepping backward and tripping over a loose stone, landing flat on his back in the dust. A shadow fell over him and a hand reached for his own, as he found himself being lifted back to his feet, staring in shock into his friend's bright blue eyes, sparkling with laughter of all things.

"I believe that the case is closed regarding which of us is more mistake-prone," he scolded, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Merlin returned his grin.

"Let's meet a dragon, shall we?"

Arthur's smile spread across his face. "No time like the present."

His eyes widened as Merlin turned and walked toward the center of the clearing and let out a rasping roar that echoed through the clear morning sky, his words resounding with a power that made Arthur take a step back. Soon, an unnatural gust of wind buffeted the trees, sending cyclones of dust spinning in the warm air, and a massive shape glided over the treetops, blocking the sun with its bulk as it flew lower and lower. Merlin returned to Arthur's side, and together they waited as Kilgarrah landed in front of them, golden scales shining painfully bright in the sun.

The dragon took one glance at the prince and his warlock and laughed, ivory teeth flashing alarmingly as great, reptilian eyes stared down at the figures before him and observed what a mortal gaze could not. "I see that what was foretold many years ago has finally come to pass," he chuckled cryptically. "The two sides of the same coin are truly united at last. Greetings, young Pendragon. It is a pleasure to meet you under better circumstances. I recall that our last encounter was less than cordial, and for that, I am afraid I must apologize."

Arthur blinked. "And I must do the same. Regardless of your actions the last time we met, I admit that no one deserved the conditions under which my father imprisoned you for nearly twenty years."

Kilgarrah eyed him pointedly. "Do not apologize, young prince. A son should not be held responsible for the sins of his father."

"Merlin's many secrets are safe with me," he replied, acknowledging the hidden objective behind the dragon's words.

Kilgarrah laughed. "Then all is well."

Merlin cut in impatiently. "You mean to say that Morgana's binding of our souls was somehow preordained?"

"In a way, I suppose so, young warlock, although I could not have said how exactly it would have come to pass. Your souls and destinies were already intertwined as one long before you met, and perhaps the bond you now share would have come to pass eventually with or without the witch's interference. I am afraid I cannot say."

"What does all that _mean_?" Merlin demanded.

"What it means, young warlock, is that the bond you share is one forged by fate and strengthened with friendship as well as blood spilled and secrets shared. It is a bond that you must learn to use to your advantage, for even as the light is victorious, the darkness prepares to rise again."

Merlin shivered involuntarily, and Kilgarrah shuffled his wings in preparation for flight. "Before I go, young ones, there is one thing I must do. I must play my final part in the path of destiny that unfolds at your feet by offering one final tie to bind you together. Hold out your hands."

Arthur and Merlin glanced at one another before each reaching out a hand toward the mountain of scales before them, flinching reflexively as the dragon took in a massive lungful of air and flames enveloped them, dancing hungrily over their skin. When the light faded, Merlin and Arthur looked down to find matching bands of gold encircling their wrists.

"They will warn you whenever the other of you is in danger. You will find, with your bond, that have a heightened awareness towards each other's location as well as feelings and emotions, but this will allow you some measure of warning before your lives are in danger." He stared at them solemnly. "For while the two of you share otherworldly power that grows as your bond becomes stronger, both your defining strength and weakness lies in eachother. Be on guard; evil approaches."

And with a final flap of his wings, Kilgarrah was gone.

**A/N: While I started out the chapter with almost no inspiration whatsoever, it kind of took on a life of its own... just like this story, which was originally going to be over by this point... oops. :) I kind of killed whatever opportunity there was for an ending in this chapter with the last few paragraphs. So it looks like there is more in store for our favorite duo. What that danger is, I honestly have no idea at the moment, but I'm sure I'll find some inspiration... maybe Uther will have a more active role. Who knows? Anyway thanks for reading, and I'll post again as soon as I cement the rest of the storyline... Whatever I end up doing, I will likely rewrite the finale using details from this plot line. It's just a matter of if I have the energy to take it all the way through the next two seasons or not... I do love season four... hmm...**


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning found Arthur and Merlin sitting at the rough-hewn table in Gaius's chambers, each bent intently over a thick tome. Merlin, having the advantage of magical speed-reading, went through three books for every one of Arthur's, and Arthur, after completing his seventh book, slammed it shut in frustration, a cloud of dust whirling out from the yellowed pages. Merlin looked up and sneezed violently, sending his own precariously leaning mound of books toppling to the floor with a crash.

Gaius chose that moment to return to the room, and simply rolled his eyes at Merlin's sigh as he stooped to pick up the mess he'd unintentionally made.

"Find anything?" he inquired casually.

Merlin glanced up at him in exasperation, and the physician resisted the urge to laugh at the ink and dust smudged across his ward's face. "Does it look like we've found anything?" Merlin snapped. Gaius shrugged, and Merlin let out another sigh. "Sorry, Gaius. It's just that we've been through practically half the library already, and none of these books even _mention_ soulbinding."

"Well yes, you may have been through half of _my_ library, but you certainly haven't tried the royal archive. I'm sure there're hundreds of possible sources of information there."

Merlin let his head fall face-first into the text he had been scanning and Arthur half-heartedly picked up a new volume before dropping it in front of him, making the entire table shudder and his friend turn his head towards him in annoyance.

"There is absolutely no way I'm going through the entire castle library looking for information that may or may not exist," Arthur groaned. "And besides, Merlin said while we were captured that he saw something about binding curses in one of _your_ books."

Merlin sat up irritably. "Which would be great, if I could _find it_!"

Gaius sank down beside them, absently scanning the titles scattered across the tabletop. "Do you remember what the book had in it?" he wondered aloud.

Merlin grimaced. "Sadly, yes. In fact I wish I could forget most of the things I came across while I was flipping through it when you had me searching for that boil remedy a couple of months ago. It was almost a cross between a spellbook and some sort of anatomy textbook, and outwardly it looked like probably fifty others on these damn bottomless shelves. It was brown with twine binding and I found random information in the margins of a page with a labeled cross-section of a frog and before a description for a spell to turn someone inside out."

Some of the color drained from Gaius's face. "Oh dear," he murmured.

"I take it you know the book Merlin is talking about, then," Arthur muttered.

Gaius nodded, and the younger men were alarmed to see a flash of apprehension cross their mentor's face. "Yes… I'm afraid I do. The volume you speak of is not all it seems. While outwardly it may appear to be purely informative, it is rife with hidden meanings, and was written by one of the greatest sorcerers and necromancers of all time; Sandor Bane. He wrote several works disguised as medicinal guides that really recorded his daily research and discoveries, with notes in the margins that hinted at what the encrypted message really meant." He paused. "Although much of his work was thankfully destroyed during the Great Purge, Bane is known as one of the first as well as the last to ever create a successful soul bond, at least until you two came along. He spent much of his life binding prospective pairs in a sacred location known as the cave of souls, hoping to one day forge the legendary bond spoken of in prophecy. However as he grew older and continued to fail to create such a partnership, he became embittered and greedy, deciding to try to twist the prophecies to his own thirst for power and immortality. By binding himself to a wraith of his own creation, he believed he could inherit the… unusual skills shared by the pair of legend as well as immortality."

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a confused glance. "Skills such as…?"

Gaius shook his head. "I'm afraid I have no idea. But at any rate, Bane was successful in his efforts, but the bond proved to be more of a curse than a blessing, as his decision to bind himself to a dead man did mean that he couldn't die, but also meant that he was trapped forever in the grey area between life and death, sentenced to an eternity of unbearable agony, unless he could somehow truly return the wraith to a state of living or kill himself; both of which are impossible."

"Let me get this straight," Arthur interrupted. "When two people are bonded, if one dies, the other does too, correct?"

"Yes," answered Gaius.

"So by binding himself to a magically reconstituted dead man, he thought he could avoid dying himself?"

Gaius shrugged. "I suppose so, although his logic seems inherently flawed to me. No one has heard from him for centuries..." He stood suddenly. "Let me see if I can find the book you are talking about."

Merlin and Arthur sat in impatient silence for several minutes as the physician scanned the shelves. Instead of returning with the brown tome Merlin had described, Gaius sat back down at the table clutching a tightly-wound scroll.

"It appears that the book you were describing is gone," he murmured in confusion. "But here is a copy of the prophecy I was referring to." The parchment cracked as he unrolled it, and Gaius slid his reading glasses down his nose, squinting to make out the time-faded words on the page.

"Of blood and flame the destined bond wakes,

Under their feet, ravaged earth quakes.

Born of magic and dragon's kin

Shall one day awaken fated power within.

The two that are one, side by side

Eternal as light and darkness collide."

He stopped, looking up at the duo before him. "I'm afraid the rest of the prophecy has been lost." Both Arthur and Merlin shared a look of confusion, but there was a sense of understanding and awe dawning in the warlock's eyes as Gaius's words sank in.

"Well I see where Bane got the power and immortality idea," muttered Arthur.

Merlin gripped the arms of his chair with a white-knuckled grip. "Do you… do you think… I mean are you suggesting that Arthur and I are… the ones the prophecy speaks of?"

Gaius removed his glasses and rubbed them against the fabric of his tunic. "Certain parts of it would apply to the two of you, yes. But I am suggesting nothing."

Merlin looked less than reassured. "Not another prophecy," he groaned, and Arthur looked at him askance.

"What do you mean, _another prophecy_?"

Gaius held up a hand wearily. "I suggest that the two of you heed the dragon's warning and prepare as best you can for whatever calamity befalls Camelot next. You could continue to research soulbonds to try and unearth some kind of other… talent for the two of you to develop, or maybe Merlin could teach you about combatting magic, Arthur… or something of that sort."

"God help me," Arthur moaned, and Gaius looked at him, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "There's always the royal library, sire," he suggested.

Arthur jumped hastily to his feet. "On second thought, magic training sounds great. Come on Merlin, let's go." The physician watched contentedly as the prince grabbed his ward by the arm and practically dragged him from his chambers. Perhaps now he could actually get some work done.

**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry for the filler chapter, but it was a necessary evil to set up the next part that I have in mind... Yay inspiration! :)Hang in there, because it looks like this is going to be one LONG story. I know I'm excited for what's to come... especially in relation to some of the information in this chapter... I wonder where that book went, hmm? Anyway, I hope the prophecy wasn't too cheesy. My first attempt at doing something like that... Happy New Year!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Just a random idea that I thought would be cool... enjoy! More action to come most likely in the next chapter.**

Arthur pulled Merlin impatiently through the corridors deep in the bowels of the castle, trying his hardest to ignore the incessant grumbling from his friend behind him.

"Where are we even going?" Merlin groaned, and Arthur came to a sudden stop, causing the other man to stumble and collide into his back face-first.

"Here," the prince replied tersely, releasing Merlin's arm and testing the doorknob. Miraculously enough, it appeared to be unlocked, but actually opening it was proving to be a challenge. Merlin watched in poorly contained amusement as Arthur squared his shoulders and threw himself against the stubbornly-sealed door shoving at it with all his bodyweight. Observing his surroundings, Merlin noted with interest the dust particles floating in the stale air and the cobwebs gathered in the corners of the darkened hallway. Obviously this area of the castle had been deserted for a while.

The warlock rolled his eyes and nudged an annoyed and extremely frustrated prince out of his way, muttering a spell under his breath. The door immediately swung open at his touch, and Arthur sent him an irritated glare.

"Damn you, Merlin. I forgot you could do that."

Merlin grinned cheekily. "What would you ever do without me?"

Arthur snorted but deigned to reply, grabbing a torch from the wall, lighting it, and pushing his way inside, Merlin hurrying to follow. Inside, they found a large, airy chamber lit from a long, thin window high up on the opposite wall that was utterly empty save for a circle in the center of the floor, ringed by layers of intricate runes. Faint traces of strong magic melded with the dust in the air, making Merlin's fingertips tingle and his nose itch. Resisting the urge to sneeze he turned to Arthur, intending to inquire once again where on earth they were.

But the Prince required no prompting. He began to speak in a low voice, a range of conflicting emotions battling their way across his face. "This wing was once home to sorcerers and other magic-users visiting Camelot… which has obviously been deserted since the Great Purge. My father forbid me from going down here, and to my knowledge, no one, not even any of the servants, has ventured down here since the day he declared war against the Old Religion. Until now."

"Well, we'd best not tell him, then," Merlin ventured lightly. His smile faded, and he continued slowly. "I can still feel the old magic in the air, embedded in the very stones of these halls… By the circle of runes on the floor, I am guessing that this was once a training room. Once the wards are activated, no spell cast inside that circle can penetrate its outer boundaries, making it perfect for practicing volatile spells without running the risk of destroying things."

Arthur nodded. "Perfect." He strode forward into the circle and nodded for Merlin to come with him. "Can you activate it?"

Merlin's eyes flashed in response, and soon a shimmering dome rose gently over their heads, invisible save for the occasional spark of gold wavering across its surface. The hair stood up on the back of Arthur's arms as the air thrummed with an unseen power, charged to bursting with magical energy.

"So what's the plan?" he asked Merlin grudgingly, forced to admit that he had no idea how to train where magic was concerned. He was somewhat alarmed when his friend simply shrugged in return.

"I suppose we just experiment… It's not like anyone has ever been in this situation before."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine. But if I end up burnt, bloody, drenched, cursed, or otherwise damaged, I _will_ have you put in the stocks."

Merlin grinned impishly. "Of course, _sire_." He reached out a hand, and suddenly a sword materialized out of thin air. "You're probably going to want this."

A sinking feeling made Arthur's stomach roll unpleasantly. He had a bad feeling that he wasn't going to like this at all. Whose idea was this anyway? The blade skittered across the cobblestones to rest at his feet, and Arthur scooped it up lazily with one foot, lofting it easily into his outstretched hand,

"Show off," Merlin muttered, just loudly enough for Arthur to hear, and the prince assumed a defensive position, taking comfort in the fact that if Merlin were to injure him, he would be affected as well.

"Ready!" he called out, unsure of what exactly he was proclaiming that he was ready for. Merlin leaned nonchalantly against the barrier.

"Let's start out simple," he decided, selecting the spell he had attempted long ago to defeat Tristian's wraith. This one would allow the prince time to react, and was also easy to stop in its tracks if Arthur became surrounded. "Cume her fyrbryne."

As Arthur listened as his friend uttered a string of words in an unfamiliar language, and suddenly he understood with perfect clarity what Merlin was intending to do. Instinctively, he leapt to one side as a blazing streak of fire snaked across the floor and scorched a ring around the area where he had just been standing. The flames quickly extinguished themselves, and Arthur tore his eyes away from the smoldering flagstones and looked up, his own shock reflected in the warlock's eyes.

"How on earth did you do that?" Merlin breathed incredulously. "You managed to avoid that spell completely!"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I have no idea… It was like… like I somehow understood what you were saying when you said that spell, and managed to react to avoid its effects."

Merlin continued to stare, dumbstruck. "You mean you translated the spell in your head?"

Arthur nodded slowly, and Merlin began to pace. "This must be another side-effect of the bond." He murmured, laughing somewhat hysterically. "Although you suddenly becoming fluent in the language of the Old Religion is just… just strange." His brow furrowed. "I wonder what would happen if I cast a spell without speaking…"

"You can do that?" Arthur wondered aloud.

"Yeah…" Merlin muttered, still pacing. "Been able to levitate stuff since before I could talk… drove Mum crazy…"

Arthur grabbed his friend's arm. "First of all, stop pacing. Secondly, what do you mean you could do spells before you could talk? Magic takes studying, doesn't it?"

Merlin grinned. "Not for me. I was born with it." The prince released his arm in shock as Merlin was suddenly struck with an idea.

"If you can understand what I _say _in the old language, I wonder if you can read it too." He murmured, pulling the prince over to the edge of the circle and dismissing the barrier with a wave of his hand. "What does this say?"

Arthur gazed in confusion at the strange, unfamiliar symbols before him, about to shrug off his apparent new talent as a coincidence and report that he couldn't read it when suddenly the figures carved into the stone began to writhe and shift, a perfectly legible message materializing before his eyes. He gasped.

"Can you read it?" Merlin pressed eagerly.

Arthur began reading in response, walking slowly around the perimeter of the ring until he had finished the spell in its entirety. "Let no magic in, nor any stray spells out. Act as a shield, rise up and protect on my command."

Merlin gaped, and Arthur resisted the urge to burst out laughing. "Shut your mouth, Merlin, unless you have a sudden desire to inhale a fly."

Merlin closed his mouth with a snap and studied his friend carefully. "We can come back tomorrow, but I think we should talk to Gaius about this."

Arthur agreed, silently pleased with his new ability, especially in the fact that he'd managed to catch his warlock friend off guard. He hummed to himself as Merlin wiped away all traces of their visit, obliterating their footprints in the layer of dust coating the floor and returning the practice sword to its proper place in the armory with a flash of his eyes before they set off through the castle to find the physician.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Yay! Twenty chapters! :) So there didn't actually end up being any REAL action in this chapter, but someone sinister IS coming... hehehe. So sorry for three or four filler chapters in a row, but they're kinda fun anyway, not to mention pretty necessary... Wasn't originally intending on having this chapter, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is.**

Weeks passed, and Merlin and Arthur continued their secret training outside of the prince's normal combat practices with the knights and regular duties, every spare moment spent in the dusty, abandoned room, a shimmering barrier between the duo and the outside world. Sometimes they practiced alone, sometimes with Gaius or Lancelot when they had the time, and they progressed quickly, soon staging full-on battle scenarios complete with practice dummies enchanted to act as an enemy would, sparring Arthur and sending fireballs and other spells at Merlin from all sides. They became more and more fluid as time passed, moving fluidly as one as Arthur anticipated Merlin's next spell and the warlock guarded him from any arcane weapons sent his way.

Soon, they made another discovery. Merlin, due to the pure magic flowing unchecked through his bloodstream, already had a very high resistance to unfriendly spells and dark magic, his aptitude seeming to only grow since his time in Morgana's dungeon. But then one day, as a spell from an enchanted practice dummy ricocheted off the barrier and struck Arthur square in the center of his chest before Merlin could stop it. Both of them staggered back with the impact, Merlin stopping further attacks with a twist of his hand. He turned to face Arthur, confusion written across his face.

"Are you alright?" he asked carefully, moving to his friend's side as he made to stand up.

"Yeah… I'm fine. Just surprised, I guess. That kind of caught me off guard."

"Me too," Merlin frowned. "Enough that I didn't have time to do anything to soften the blow and prevent it from hitting you full-force. I've used that spell hundreds of times. By all reckoning, you should have been knocked out."

The barrier flickered, and Gaius hurried over to join them. "What happened?" he exclaimed worriedly.

Merlin hesitated before attempting an explanation. "Um… a stunning spell hit Arthur full-on in the chest, but instead of going unconscious, he merely fell back slightly."

Gaius looked thoughtful, albeit slightly perturbed. "It's possible that Arthur has built up a resistance to enchantments through his contact with you, although there could be plenty of other explanations. The circumstances of his birth, for one thing."

The prince stiffened. "What does my birth have to do with anything?"

Gaius sighed warily. "Although Morgause _was _attempting to turn you against your father in her attempt to draw you away and allow you to visit with an imitation of your mother's spirit, her tale included a grain of truth. A truth that I break a whole slew of oaths by sharing with you, but I feel that you deserve to know."

Merlin laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder in a silent gesture of support, but the prince didn't seem to notice, staring intently at Gaius's worn face.

"Your mother was unable to conceive, but your father loved her dearly with all his heart, and refused to take another wife, despite Ygraine's urging and the pressure for an heir to the throne." He paused uncomfortably. "In desperation, Uther went to a close friend of his at the time; Nimueh, who he hoped would use her authority as High Priestess of the Old Religion to grant him a son. Reluctantly, she agreed, warning him that in order for a live to be created, one must be taken in exchange in order to preserve the delicate balance between life and death. Uther accepted the risks, assuming that his life or the life of an unassuming commoner would be taken in return, and he deemed it a fair price to pay."

Arthur's face was white as a sheet, his hands curling into fists. "Go on," he whispered.

"Nine months later, you were born, and Uther and the kingdom rejoiced. Until your mother's health began to decline, and your father realized in horror what was happening. He frantically ventured to the Isle of the Blessed, intending to offer his life in Ygraine's stead, but Nimueh was powerless to prevent the events she had already set in motion. It was too late. Uther returned to Camelot in a rage, just in time to sit at Ygraine's bedside as she slipped away, content in the knowledge that she had given birth to a healthy son who would someday rule after Uther. You have to understand, Arthur, that your father loved your mother more than everything else, and her death destroyed him. Grief stricken and guilty for accepting a deal that led to Ygraine's death, Uther looked for someone, or something to blame for his loss, and eventually turned on magic, the Old Religion, and all those directly or indirectly implicated with either. Your father loves you, Arthur. More than anything else in the world, and I know that he would gladly give up this kingdom for you."

Anger shone in the prince's eyes and he looked slightly skeptical at Gaius's last assertion, but he bowed his head in resignation. "I _was _born of magic, then. So what could that mean about my apparent resistance to magic?"

"Take my hypothesis with a grain of salt, for I am by no means sure of this, but if magic is the root of _your_ life-force, as it is Merlin's, then I suppose you could share a source of resilience in the face of harmful enchantments… You did manage to fight off the curse of the questing beast's bite for an extraordinarily long time, and have easily snapped out of several love spells over the years, so perhaps the bond merely enhanced your natural abilities."

The pair continued to practice and experiment late into the night, long after Gaius and the rest of the castle had retired to bed and the moon hung high in the night sky. finally heading to their respective rooms themselves, Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder wearily before trudging up the many flights of stairs to bed. Merlin headed in the other direction towards the physician's quarters, unaware of a dark shadow lurking in the darkness. Outside the city walls, a cloaked figure melted out of the shadows, a deep cowl concealing their face as they bent over, eyes flashing a dirty gold as the faint, gilded strand appeared, gleaming in the starlight, pulsating and growing stronger with each step taken towards the castle. Straightening, a hidden smirk materialized on the figure's pain-ravaged face. He had found them at last; the pair of legend.


	21. Chapter 21

The halls were deserted, a lone figure sweeping silently along the pale marble corridors, following a trail visible only to their own unwavering gaze. Suddenly, they came to a halt in front of a set of large, wooden double doors, yellowed teeth baring in an animalistic snarl of anticipation as they reached out a scarred hand to push them open.

Merlin sat up in bed mere hours after falling asleep, drenched in a cold sweat with heart hammering in his chest. The bracelet around his wrist burned a message into his consciousness that he hardly needed to be told; somehow he already knew. Arthur was in danger. Cursing softly, Merlin sprinted from the physician's quarters and dashed through castle on the familiar route to the prince's chambers. Adrenaline flooded his system, sending his breath in and out in quick gasps as his bare feet pounded softly against the icy stone floor.

He reached Arthur's rooms only to find the door already open, a dark, cloaked figure filling the entryway. An icy wave of malevolent power washed over Merlin, hitting him like a physical blow, and he was reminded with a shiver of dread, of the darkness of Cornelius Sigan that had possessed Cedric, and later threatened to overcome Merlin himself, whispering poisonous words in his ears and creeping its way towards him through the air, like a pestilence that he was powerless to stop.

Merlin skidded to a halt, paralyzed in mounting horror as the figure crept closer and closer to the prince's bedside, whipping around suddenly to gaze intently into the shadows of the hallway outside. Merlin dove for cover out of sight as a deep, throaty chuckle spread through the night air.

"I know you're there, Emrys. It's no use hiding," it whispered. Goosebumps prickled up and down Merlin's limbs, but he steeled himself and stood, stepping into plain view of the unknown entity in front of him.

"What do you want?" he challenged, voice low. A hood was pushed back, and icy dread flooded Merlin's veins. He knew who man was. He had come for them, just as Merlin should have guessed.

"Sandor Bane," Merlin growled softly. The sorcerer's chuckle grew louder, a grotesque semblance of a smile twisting its way across his skeletal face. Merlin blinked, caught between staring at the man before him in defiance and lowering his eyes in disgust at his ghoulish appearance. Flesh hung loosely from the sorcerer's skull in limp ribbons, a pale green liquid oozing from open wounds slashed across both cheekbones. And his eyes…

Merlin looked away to avoid losing himself in the fathomless, maddened orbs as Arthur sat up in bed with a start, armlet burning and his internal "Merlin in danger-o-meter" raising a cacophony of alarms in his head. Having barely even opened his eyes, Arthur stood and reached instinctively for the sword by his bed, only to have the scabbard slide across the floor away from him. The clouds immediately cleared from his sleep-befuddled mind, and Arthur's heart pounded in his chest as he found himself separated from Merlin across the room by a ghastly figure, eyes glowing an ugly bronze.

"So kind of you to join us," Merlin joked weakly. "You really are a deep sleeper, you prat…"

Arthur smirked at his friend uneasily, taking in Merlin's disheveled appearance. The warlock's dark hair was tousled, and he stood barefoot, dressed only in his nightwear. The cloaked figure took a step towards Arthur, but lunging to the right, he managed to grab his sword and brandished it menacingly at the apparent sorcerer in front of him. A sick feeling of dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as dead eyes surveyed him balefully. He knew who this man was, and he knew without asking that Merlin did too.

"Sandor Bane," he spat. "What do you want with us?"

Bane's dry croak sent shivers down his spine. "Oh, a great many things, Arthur Pendragon. Power, immortality… it has been written in the stars, my boy, the potential you two possess. And I intend to have it all."

Merlin spoke up. "I don't think you understand. You tried once already to circumvent the prophecies and failed. What's to prevent the same thing from happening again? What makes you think it is your right to hold such power?"

Arthur's grip on his weapon tightened as the sorcerer pointed a crooked finger at his friend. "What makes you so certain that the right is yours? What good are prophecies if they are not interpreted?" Bane purred dangerously. "Man holds within them the authority to determine their own fate, so why not improve mine? You carry a heavy burden, the two of you, and face much pain and hardship. Take control over your destiny, and hand the responsibility to me."

Arthur frowned in confusion, but Merlin seemed to know what the man was referring to. "Never," he declared.

A twisted smile crept across the sorcerer's emaciated features. "So be it. If you are too weak to change fate, then I will do it for you." With a flash and a violent bang, he was gone, leaving behind the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh.

**A/N: Some of you mentioned you had your suspicions regarding the identity of the mysterious figure, and I bet a lot of you guessed correctly... The next part should be very interesting. I have plans for poor Merlin and Arthur. (Tormenting them is just so much fun.) Since break is over, updates will be quite a bit more infrequent, but I already had this chapter partially written, so ta da! :) Hope you enjoyed!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hey everybody, sorry for the wait! Yay, I got this posted a day earlier than I anticipated... procrastination is a fantastic provider of free time. So here's a nice, long, action-packed chapter in celebration. There's a bit of Leon in this one... enjoy, and please let me know what you think. :)**

With several long strides, Arthur was back at Merlin's side, looking him up and down for injury in what he hoped was an inconspicuous way. Evidently his anxiety was only too obvious, as Merlin gripped his forearm reassuringly. A spark passed between them with the contact, and Arthur flinched involuntarily at the strange jolting sensation.

"I guess we have someone else sinister to worry about then. Great," Merlin stated dryly, shrugging off the strange exchange. Arthur shook his head, mentally berating himself for managing to sleep through half of the encounter, and guilty that his friend had sensed the threat from _halfway across the castle_ while he had only woken because the sorcerer's approach to his bedside had been less than stealthy. Sensing the prince's agitation, Merlin longed to comfort him somehow, but was hesitant; the last thing they needed was to have to explain why a magical flare-up had set the entire city on fire.

Arthur had opened his mouth to respond sarcastically when the warning bells began to sound, metallic clangs reverberating through the castle and sending hurried footsteps pounding against the stone floor of the corridor outside. Prince and warlock took one glance at eachother before rushing out to join the melee, Arthur drawing his sword once again and Merlin hurrying to keep up.

"What's going on?" Arthur demanded of a nearby guard, but he looked about as confused as everyone else.

"I-I have no idea, sire," he stammered, bowing and adjusting his grip on his spear before hurrying away. Arthur sighed in exasperation.

"Come on, Merlin. Let's go find my father. I have a feeling our visitor is somehow involved in this," he called over the cacophony of raised voices and the continued clamor of the bells.

Merlin nodded, and they shoved their way through the throng, making their way towards the council chambers and hoping that the King could be found there, or that they would encounter him on the way. In his self-imposed exile of misery and betrayal, Uther had been less than predictable as of late, but the warning bells were sure to have drawn his mind out of whatever guilt-ridden stupor it had fallen in today. Thinking along those lines, Merlin could only manage a small surge of relief that Arthur had not reacted similarly in response to the reveal of his magic…

"Arthur!" called a familiar voice, and Arthur paused mid-stride, turning in the center of the hallway and scanning the crowd for the source of the cry.

"Leon!?" he exclaimed, and the knight's curly hair became visible over the fray. He shoved his way over to them, wild-eyed and slightly out of breath.

"Arthur, Merlin, you need to leave now. The guards will be here soon, and I'm not so sure I should even be telling you this, but I know Merlin's a good man and would never betray us-"

Arthur cut him off, color draining from his face. "What's happened?" he demanded.

Leon hesitated, looking down at the floor, at the panicked servants rushing around them, and finally back at Arthur. His stormy grey eyes were conflicted, but he spoke earnestly. "A group of knights have sworn to have seen Merlin practicing magic, and have informed the king. He has ordered him to be arrested and brought to him immediately. If someone sees you-"

A new round of shouts echoed down the halls from both directions, and Merlin whirled around frantically. They were trapped with nowhere to go.

"Leon!" Merlin murmured urgently. "Arrest me now. Before they get here."

Arthur stared at him, aghast, as if the warlock had just suggested that Kilgarrah and Morgana planned to nominate Uther for a 'monarch of the month' award. "Are you crazy!?"

Merlin waved him off impatiently, uncomfortably aware of the growing volume of the guards' calls for order. "Both of you, grab one of my arms and pretend to drag me towards the throne room. That way you won't get in trouble for resisting the king's orders."

Leon gaped for a moment before hesitantly placing his hand on Merlin's shoulder, but the prince took a step back.

"No," he refused flatly. "There has to be another way."

Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand and wrapped it around his wrist just as the guards rounded the corner, and sent a pointed glance Leon's way. The knight cleared his throat.

"I've, um… We've captured the sorcerer!" he announced awkwardly. Merlin winced at the knight's stiffness, but the guards didn't seem to find anything suspicious.

"We'll take him to the king," Leon added unhelpfully, as the uniformed men formed ranks around the prince and his "prisoner." As they pushed their way through now-deserted halls, Arthur elbowed Merlin sharply in the ribs, bending his head slightly to hiss in his friend's ear.

"What in the bloody hell do you think you are doing?" Merlin's grimace deepened.

"Saving both of our necks," he replied with vehemence. "Now just play along… act angry or something."

"Oh, I'm angry, alright, you idiot! Angry enough to-"

Whatever he had been intending to say was cut off by a warning glance from Leon, as the doors to the throne room were flung open, and the Merlin and the prince marched inside, herded through the doorway by their entourage of slightly perplexed-looking guards.

Merlin hazarded a glance at his friend and was pleased to see his face flushed with what could have passed as outrage.

"Here he is, Father. As you requested," Arthur improvised.

Uther turned slowly to face them, eyes flashing with a spark of his old anger, replacing the dead, expressionless gaze that had surveyed the kingdom for weeks since the second outright battle for Camelot against Morgana's forces. "That will be all," he motioned the guards away, and Arthur and Merlin were left alone with the king and four unfamiliar-looking knights.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "I have been informed that my manservant has been charged with the crime of using magic, and the warning bells set off and guards dispatched to find him, yet he has been at my side almost constantly this evening. Whom, may I ask, is responsible for leveling this accusation?"

Any other man would have trembled at the threat hidden beneath the prince's cold, clipped reply, but not the king. Uther stood, staring daggers at his son and manservant, opening his mouth to deliver his trademark anti-magic tirade, when the oldest of the knights stepped out from his position against a pillar to the right of the throne.

"Excuse me, your highness. If I may?"

The steel-clad man's form flickered, and Arthur was met with a forebodingly familiar ghastly smirk. Bane. The prince swallowed, hard, and turned to glance at Merlin, whose eyes shone with apprehension. The king sank back onto the throne, disgruntled.

"Of course, Sir Sandor. Please continue."

The other three knights faded into shadow, until Arthur could see the marble pillar behind them through their phantom-like forms. Yet the king seemed not to notice that anything was amiss.

"Perhaps the prince is defending his manservant. It is no secret, after all, that he and Merlin have become close over the years, is it not? Perhaps closer than is proper in a relationship between master and servant."

Uther frowned. "It is as you say, yet Arthur has always been true to his word…"

"If they are truly friends, then perhaps the prince has neglected to inform you of his manservant's… arcane talents, has harbored this sorcerer."

The king's face was absolutely pallid with rage, and Arthur's hands balled into fists at his sides. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't simply make the situation a great deal worse.

"My son would never do such a thing!"

Bane sighed in false sympathy. "I know it is hard to admit, but see how he stands there speechless? We have caught the young prince off guard, it appears; he has no proof to refute our evidence. After all, what is his word against that of four of your _most trusted_ knights?"

This time Arthur couldn't prevent the heated retort that burst from his lips. "Merlin would never betray me or Camelot! Magic is a force that can be used for both good and evil, and it is you that seeks to cause harm-"

"Enough!" Uther interjected, voice echoing off the stone rafters overhead. His expression was one of utter, animalistic fury, twisted almost beyond recognition. "He must have enchanted you. My son would never say such a thing!" he spat.

Bane shook his head, leering grin widening. "I'm afraid not, sire. You see, the prince is in league with this sorcerer. He was there when I witnessed the boy practicing magic. He knows perfectly well what his manservant is capable of, and he has hidden it from you. Magic has been at the very heart of Camelot all this time, hidden in the soul of her very own prince."

A dreadful silence fell over the room, Arthur's blood running cold._ This is it,_ he thought. Bane had just practically signed their death warrant.

**A/N: Oh dear... things don't look good for our favorite duo. :D Stay tuned for more; hopefully another chapter will be posted this weekend.**


	23. Chapter 23

A cold, sinister voice reverberated through the vaults of Arthur's mind as the charged silence in the throne room stretched on. _How little effort it takes to destroy such a grand destiny,_ Bane gloated. _Either you and Emrys burn together, or if you somehow manage to escape Uther's wrath, your inheritance to the throne is forfeit. I will take your place as the Once and Future King!_

Arthur shook his head at the ridiculous gaps in the sorcerer's logic. _No,_ he growled mentally, _I think you'll find fate is much harder to thwart than you think._

The prince stiffened in surprise as Merlin's familiar, slightly sarcastic voice echoed his own. _No one can choose their destiny, Sandor Bane. And Arthur and I… well…ours is rather difficult to escape._ He added wryly.

Uther stood slowly, expression stony and eyes hauntingly expressionless. "The boy will burn on the pyre at sunrise two days from now, and the prince…" Arthur winced as his father refused to meet his gaze, or even use his name. "The prince is to be confined to his chambers."

The guards by the doors stood paralyzed in shock, reluctant to arrest their prince, whom they respected and owed their ultimate loyalty; many of them had trained alongside him since childhood, and would lay down their lives for Arthur without a second thought. While Uther… The unreasonable gleam in his eyes betrayed the madness of a broken man lurking under the emotionless exterior. If they refused his commands, it was almost a certainty that they would be the next victims led to the pyre or executioner's block.

As the soldiers trudged slowly over to the prince and his manservant, Arthur's brain worked overtime, running scenario after scenario, escape plan after escape plan, but came up blank. The guards reached them, and he realized frantically that they were taking Merlin away.

"If you kill him, you condemn me to death too!" he cried out desperately. "And don't tell me you have _ever_ seen those knights before in your life! You've been deceived, father! _He's _the sorcerer!"

But the king had already turned his back on his son, and Arthur had time to shoot Merlin one last anguished glance before they dragged his friend to the dungeons in the opposite direction. The remaining guards were more than gentle with the prince, barely even touching him as they guided him back to his chambers. But Arthur's mind was elsewhere, beneath the castle with a certain raven-haired manservant.

He wrenched himself angrily away from his men's restraining hands and strode into his now-darkened chambers without goading, slamming the door behind him. Arthur's head spun, his world turned upside down. The mirror across the room shattered onto the cobblestone floor, the fragments like tiny stars scattered across the dark stone. Arthur took a step back gingerly, swinging the door gently back open and experimentally slamming it again, the soldiers outside eyeing him curiously. Nothing.

He sank down onto his four-poster bed and lowered his head into his hands, absently pinching the bridge of his nose. What was he going to do? His father, was about to do something horribly wrong and permanent, and there was nothing he could do to stop him. Even if they were to escape... His hands shook violently, and he growled quietly at his weakness.

"Why must you be such an insufferable idiot, Merlin?"

A loud pounding at the door aroused Arthur with a start, and they swung open violently, seemingly of their own accord, to reveal a very frightened looking servant. "My lord, the king wishes to see you immediately," he bowed.

All Arthur heard was a familiar voice echoing through his head as he was dragged out of the throne room. All he saw were those blasted blue eyes staring after him.

"No," he replied flatly, and strode to the door, shutting it firmly in the servant's face. Wearily, he began to trudge back over to his bed when he found it was no longer where he had left it. "What in the bloody hell is happening?" he exclaimed, realizing that his bed had mysteriously transported itself across his chambers. "That's it," he muttered angrily. "This must be Merlin's doing."

His mind made up, Arthur strode over to the wardrobe, pulled on a jacket, and headed to the door, before remembering the four men that stood guard outside. He swore softly in frustration, throwing his jacket back in the general area of the wardrobe and flopping back onto his bed, which had returned to its original position. Gaius. Perhaps he would know what to do.

Sighing, the prince glanced out the window at the inky-black sky cloaking the turrets of the castle. Gaius would likely be asleep, and Arthur had no way to leave his chambers or pass a message to him anyway… His mind whirled uselessly for several hours before he finally sank into a restless sleep. Meanwhile, Merlin also succumbed to exhaustion in a cold, damp cell in the bowels of the castle, yet forces beyond their comprehension were still at work. After all, destiny never sleeps.

**A/N: Wow, I'm on a roll... ****another chapter****! I ****actually**** met and exceeded one of my self-imposed posting deadlines... the world must be coming to an end! Although the chapter is rather short... Haha anyway, bonus points to whoever can find the modified Kilgarrah quote somewhere in the chapter. :) More soon, hopefully!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hey everyone! No worries, I'm still alive, just extremely busy, unfortunately... It seems that the more inspired I am, the less time there is to write... I'm super excited for the next couple of chapters though, and already have half of the next one ready, so maybe it will be up later tonight. :) Enjoy! **

_"__Arthur…. Arthur…" _a strange, yet oddly compelling voice echoed through the vaults of his mind, and Arthur found himself weaving impulsively through the shadowy bowels of the castle after it, turning down a corridor that he had never seen before. Cobwebs muffled his footsteps, and the sound of his breathing echoed against the cold stone walls. Cool night air swept across his face, and Arthur suddenly found himself at an old, rusty gate.

Hesitantly, he brushed a hand against the bars, and the gate slid creakily open. He jumped and glanced furtively behind him, but there was only the mournful howling of the wind in his ears. Brushing the powdery substance off his hands, Arthur stepped tentatively outside the castle walls. The indistinct silhouettes of trees surrounded him, swaying creakily in the wind, and a loud thrumming filled the air. Arthur found himself rooted to the ground where he stood, frozen in place as a familiar rasping chuckle ghosted through the air.

_"__What a pleasure to see you again, young Pendragon." _

Arthur crossed his arms, nonplussed, as Kilgarrah's mountainous, scaly mass landed across the clearing, reptilian golden eyes meeting icy blue ones; eyes hauntingly similar to the eyes of another man currently languishing in the dungeons. The now-familiar rush of confusion and disorientation filled Arthur as his recollection of the last several hours came flooding back.

"I'm not really here, am I?" he blurted. The dragon's amused laughter grew louder.

"Many things are not as they seem, young Pendragon."

"Are you even capable of giving a straight answer?" Arthur snapped angrily.

"Merlin often asks me the same question," Kilgarrah snorted in agitation, sparks flying from his nostrils. "Which brings me to why I am here. You see, your destiny is a great one, yet the necromancer Sandor Bane has managed to disrupt the balance of fate, and I'm afraid that I have no idea what will come to pass; your future, as well as Merlin's, and the future of Albion is hidden to me, shrouded in uncertainty."

Arthur stared at him. "Well that sounds just delightful, thanks for telling me," he deadpanned.

Golden eyes admonished him silently before the dragon's voice rumbled on. "You must listen to me and understand, young Pendragon, or heaven only knows what chaos and utter turmoil the world will be tossed into. Darkness will reign supreme, and you and Merlin will surely fall. Even through the mist that obscures the future from my eyes, I see great pain ahead for both of you."

Arthur scrubbed a hand roughly across his face and shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh in disbelief. "Great!"

"The very existence of the bond between Sandor Bane and a creature of death is an anomaly, young prince; it was never meant to come to pass, whereas your connection with Merlin was forged long before either of you were born. You and the young warlock must destroy the warped and twisted future Bane hopes to lay in place and mend the rift the sorcerer has torn in the tapestry of fate."

"And how are we supposed to do that? Bane has the entire court languishing in the palm of his hand at the moment, and my father wants Merlin executed, Kilgarrah. I can't do this without him, and I certainly can't let him die!"

"It would be most unwise of Uther to have the young warlock burnt at the stake."

"I know," Arthur growled in agitation.

"I'm afraid the matter of the king's interference is something you must figure out for yourself, Arthur," Kilgarrah murmured gently. "But Sandor Bane must be stopped at all costs. Our time draws short; your mind is fading back into the land of consciousness…"

And indeed, the world around the prince was beginning to blur together, the massive dragon's form darkening and becoming indistinct against the velvety black of the sky.

"Wait!" Arthur cried desperately, "How am I supposed to stop him?"

He could no longer make out Kilgarrah's position in the darkness, but a maddening chuckle floated towards him through the gloom. "Have faith in your warlock, young prince. Always have faith."

…Arthur sat up with a start, whipping his head back and slamming it against the headboard of his bed with a painful thump. He grimaced and reflexively reached up to rub the back of his head. Wait. His bed. Why did it seem so wrong that he should be in his own chambers, in his own bed? He stared blankly at the silver stream of moonlight pooling on the flagstones, racking his brain.

Suddenly it all came rushing back to him; his uninformative visit with the dragon. Merlin's arrest. The strange, random acts of magic. Had it been a dream? Praying desperately that the events that now filled his mind were figments of his imagination, some horrifically realistic nightmare, Arthur leapt out of bed and padded silently over to the window, sagging against the wall in dismay at what he saw. A partially-constructed pyre loomed in the center of the courtyard, seemingly mocking him as the rough-hewn pole at its center danced with imagined flames. He blinked and turned away. He would die before letting Merlin burn. But what could he do?

His thoughts turned unbidden to his quest several years before to the Caves of Balor to find the Mortaeus flower to heal Merlin after his friend- yes, even then, although he would never admit it- had willingly drunk poison to protect him. Then had come the strange woman in the woods who had tried to kill him, and the giant spiders, and… the ball of light.

The reflection of Arthur's striking blue eyes shone back at him from a shard of mirror on the floor, and suddenly it all clicked into place in his mind. Merlin. Again. No wonder the arcane orb had seemed so familiar, so… safe. The prince sighed to himself at his newest realization. One of these days, he and Merlin were going to sit down and have a _very_ long conversation about self-sacrifice. If only a light could magically appear and guide Merlin out of the darkness of the dungeon and back to him as it had guided him back to Merlin's side once.

Arthur sat back down on his bed and cradled his head in his hands. Wishful thinking would get him nowhere. First, he needed a plan, and he needed to get out of here.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Yay, another one! And guess what? 50 followers! Whoooooo, I still can't believe it. Thanks again to all of you who have stuck with me so far; your comments and interest in this makes it even more fun to write. :) So here's another nice, long chapter in celebration.**

Merlin awoke slowly, strangely at peace with his dismal surroundings, yet he didn't understand why. He should be devastated, fearful, but instead he felt content and ready to face whatever Uther, Sandor Bane, and the rest of the world had to throw at him. Looking down at his hands in his lap as he sat up from his slumped position against the cell wall, Merlin found to his surprise that a swirling blue orb had materialized over his outstretched palm. He shrugged in confusion as it began to gradually fade away and the morning sunlight peeked its way through the barred window.

As the magic disappeared, so did his initial good mood, and Merlin realized in concern that not once had anyone tried to visit him. He didn't expect Arthur, as he was probably confined to his rooms at the moment, but Gwen hadn't come either, and even Gaius had been ominously absent. He would have given anything to see them one last time, to tell them, especially Arthur, that he was sorry for what he was going to have to do. Just as he instinctively had known how to defeat the wraith of Morgause on the plains, Merlin's thoughts were burdened by what he was going to have to sacrifice to end the threat to his destiny.

Deep in thought, Merlin didn't notice the footsteps echoing down the stairs to the dungeons and the murmured conversation with the guards as they allowed the visitor to continue down the hall.

"Hello, idiot," said a familiar voice, and Merlin glanced up in shock. Gaius stood with his medical bag on his arm and a small smile lighting up his face, but next to him stood a tall, blond figure, grinning teasingly.

"Arthur!"

Merlin stood and rushed to the cell door. Arthur seemed different somehow. He had bags under his eyes, and his eyes appeared haunted despite the mirth that currently filled them.

"Are you alright?"

Arthur's smile slipped for a second before he managed to cover it up with false cheer and bravado. But it hadn't slipped past Merlin's notice. "I think you are the one who should be answering that question," the prince replied pointedly, looking down at his manservant's disheveled appearance.

"I'm fine," Merlin mumbled.

Gaius took a large bronze key out of his pocket, shoving it roughly into the keyhole and rushing into the cell, quickly embracing Merlin before looking him over. He handed him a clean tunic and insisted that he remove the old one while the physician bustled around, checking his ward for any sign of hidden injury and pulling a loaf of bread out of his medicine bag.

Arthur stood in the doorway to the cell, cheerful façade gone and thunderous anger written across his face. Merlin stepped out of the reach of Gaius's ministrations and gripped his friend's forearm, forcing his lips upward into a wistful half-smile. Blood rushed through his veins in a now-familiar sensation of exultation at the spark that passed between them, but his joy was mixed with guilt and an overwhelming sense of misery at what he was going to have to put both of them through.

"Arthur-" he began, the prince staring at him intently. "I- I have to…" The words stuck in his throat, as if his silence could prevent the agonizing reality of what Bane had forced him to contemplate doing. No, not contemplate doing. He was going to do it, with absolute certainty. It was for the good of Camelot, after all. Merlin shook his head, and grinned deviously at Arthur, although the smile never reached his eyes. "I have to ask; how on earth did you wheedle your way into getting down here to visit me?"

The prince stared searchingly at his friend, but thankfully did not press the issue of the warlock's strange mood. He smirked, twirling his set of keys around his finger with a flourish. "Leon's on guard duty this morning, and Gwen helped smuggle me in here through the servants' quarters… it appears that I'm not the only one who doesn't want to see you executed." His smile faded.

"We need to get you out of here, or something… anything. I can't just sit around while Bane takes control over the castle from under my father's nose." _Or afford to lose you_, he added silently, but his pride wouldn't let him voice his fears. His frown deepened. "I had a dream last night… and Kilgarrah was there…"

Both Gaius and Merlin perked up at this, staring fixatedly at him. "What did he say?" Gaius urged, but Merlin said nothing, a strange expression on his face and an incomprehensible feeling of dread, hope, and guilt emanating off him in waves.

Arthur snorted in derision. "Nothing useful. A bunch of cryptic nonsense about the future being clouded and trusting Merlin..."

Any traces of hope fled from Merlin's face, and the dread intensified. His friend choked out a laugh. "Yeah, trusting me… sounds like a great plan…"

Arthur gazed at him in utter confusion, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Merlin's bony shoulder. "Merlin… Don't worry, alright? We've made it through worse things than this! Everything will be fine, and you'll be back to polishing my armor and cleaning out the stables in no time."

Merlin didn't look completely convinced, but smiled faintly anyway. "Once a prat, always a prat," he muttered, earning himself an affectionate elbow in the ribs. Gaius cleared his throat pointedly.

"The rotation of the guards is going to happen in less than fifteen minutes, Arthur. We have to get you back to your rooms before Leon is replaced with someone less understanding."

The prince nodded. "Go on ahead and return to your chambers, Gaius. I'll leave in a minute and lock the door behind me, and I'm sure Guinevere can lead me back safely enough." The physician nodded, sending Merlin one last concerned glance and hurrying from the cell. The prince gripped Merlin's forearm reassuringly.

"I will _never_ let you burn, my friend. _Never_. I'll think of something to get you out of here or to end the enchantment on my father, or whatever, and we'll make Sandor Bane wish he never showed his sorry face in Camelot, alright?"

Merlin grinned weakly. "Yeah, we'll see if you're as good at saving me as I am at saving you, eh?"

Arthur nodded solemnly. "Yes… and thank you."

His friend stared at him as if he had sprouted a third head.

The prince continued. "For always being there for me. It's high time I returned the favor." He laughed quietly. "So you just relax here, tell your magic to stop moving things around my chambers, and we're set."

Raised voices echoed down the hallway, signaling the changing of the guard, and Arthur straightened hurriedly, squeezing Merlin's hand a final time before easing the cell door closed and jamming the key in the lock. He sped silently around the corner without a backwards glance, leaving Merlin feeling even worse than before. He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye.

**A/N: Some REAL action to come in the next chapter... I wonder what plan Merlin has up his sleeve, hmm? :) Until next time!**


End file.
